


Nudge me in the right direction

by Anna_AI_v1



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: AU, Bisexual Character, Brainwashing, Friendship/Love, Mind Control, Multi, Polyamorous Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23231977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_AI_v1/pseuds/Anna_AI_v1
Summary: On a Tuesday like any other there was an explosion. Although curious, you started evacuating the building with the rest of the staff. On the very last flight of stairs the memory that your phone lay in the drawer, forgotten, had you sighing and turning back. There was no smoke, no shouting. No one stopped you as you went against the tide. So you were going to just grab it and go home. No need to wait till the firefighters finished checking the building, right?So... that was a terrible idea.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 33
Kudos: 190





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there. First of all, the Marvel universe and its characters all belong to Marvel Studios (And Disney). Secondly, this is a fan fiction with slight AU elements and lots of fluff. The reader is referred to as a female, however, I tried to avoid describing her any more than that. This idea had been brewing in my head for awhile, and I wanted to share it. I truly hope some of you find it enjoyable!  
> Good reading. ;)

Your life had not been a particularly interesting one. Having grown up in a small middle class family you had been given average education, average career opportunities. And it was perfectly fine. In a world that was obsessed with heroes, celebrities and other exceptional people, your mediocrity made you feel safe. A simple school, a simple family, a simple apartment, a simple college and finally a simple job.

Or so you thought.

Notice the first sentence? Two months after graduation, countless ignored job-applications and terrible demeaning interviews later you got a call. A man that introduced himself as Jonathan Morrow of Capital Industries spoke to you for all but two minutes. However, it was the most amazing thing to happen to you for years. You were requested to come in for an interview and within a week you were signing up as an administrative assistant. Capital Industries organized construction and marketing of real estate. It wasn't a big firm with less than a hundred employees, but it was a stable working environment. Your work, a typical 9 to 5 shift, consisted of cataloguing plans, booking meetings, setting up appointments, handling correspondence and other important but manageable tasks. It wasn't glamorous, but it paid the bills.

You never even realized that you had not sent any CVs to a single real estate firm.

But why question the good things in life?

On a Tuesday like any other there was an explosion. Nothing too majestic (your life was average after all) - sounded like a car backfiring, but it did make you question as to what could have exploded in one of the offices that, as far as you knew, was filled with old papers and a dead coffee maker than no one ever got around to fixing. Although curious, you started evacuating the building with the rest of the staff. On the very last flight of stairs the memory that your phone lay in the drawer, forgotten, had you sighing and turning back. There was no smoke, no shouting. No one stopped you as you went against the tide. So you were going to just grab it and go home. No need to wait till the firefighters finished checking the building, right?

So... that was a terrible idea.

The moment you opened the door to the fifth floor, a creature at least seven feet tall barreled into your relatively small frame. Sprawled on the floor, too winded to scream, you turned to watch it run up the stairs. The thing was skinny and in the nude. It's vaguely humanoid form reminded you of the Pale Man, if not for the spikes protruding through pasty skin. It scampered on all fours, banging against walls as it went and leaving blood all over the place.

Different people have different ways of dealing with unexpected, creepy monsters at their workplace. Some scream and flee the scene. Some try to help others. You? You stood up, dusted off your pants and started calmly walking away from the entire shitshow. A thump and gurgle stopped you two steps later. You could hear a man groaning in pain and another cussing in a whisper. A part of you, the healthy every-day part of your brain kept screaming that the numbness and calm were just manifestations of shock. The other part of your brain, the curious one you hadn't used since you were six years old, nudged you back to the fifth floor to check on the source of the sound.

So you did.

Three dead, four wounded. The official statement was that there had been a gas leak, and debris from the explosion had caused the damage. You didn't argue it, but the images seared into your brain claimed otherwise.

"Miss, are you sure there is nothing else you can tell us?" The agent in front of you closed the notebook with a resounding slap and leaned in. "I can tell that you're holding something back."

 _'Only the part about the monster and the carnage, sir,'_ you thought with numb humor, _'But we both know how that conversation would go, don't we?'_

"No, sir, I don't remember anything else."

You were covered in blood and exhausted, but the same eerie disassociation kept you from noticing the state you were in. Sirens screeched, people speaking among themselves and to authorities filled the area with noise that reverberated behind your eyes. Nonetheless, you answered the agent's questions patiently. Your story was a boring one: you had found the wounded men, helped them get back to safety. The man in front of you, however, seemed to be rather thick and had you repeating it over and over again. But no, you hadn't seen monsters. No, you hadn't heard gunshots. No, there's nothing else to add.

Hours later, he sighed in defeat.

Average life went on.

It took SHIELD less than a month to re-check your background and offer you a different position. Most of the data was already available, seeing as you had already (indirectly) been working for them. The Capital Industries were but a front to ensure their agents had safe-houses as well as stable investment opportunities. You, however, had had no idea.

Maria Hill explained everything to you in simple terms, right after you had signed a non-disclosure agreement and listened to a very detailed threat. It was probably a sign of mental instability that you found her rather attractive throughout the promises of murder. She told you about SHIELD, their work, and that they had been impressed by the way you had handled yourself. Your ability to keep your cool, the agent believed, was wasted behind a desk and they wanted to offer you some field training. You laughed.

"Jesus fucking Christ, woman," You spoke through tears. "No."

"Why ever not?" For all their research, they seem to have missed the fact that you got winded climbing up a few flights of stairs.

"You're asking me to join the Scooby-doo gang, seriously? After what had happened?" Mussing up your own hair, you laughed some more. "I still can't sleep."

"Can't you?" Maria looked at you calmly. "I've been in the business for quite a while," she murmured your last name, while carding through the file she held in her hands. "You try to keep yourself down, to feel guilty, horrified for what you did. Some would." She slipped a picture of the dead creature across the table. "But had you not helped those agents, had you not taken their gun and shot that _thing_ , you would be dead. And, correct me if I'm wrong, but you're glad you did what you did."

You flinched, lowering your eyes and letting the faux smirk slip away. Agent Hill was right, of course. The truth was... you felt _relieved._

 _"_ I am not judging you, _"_ Maria continued, her voice hard. "Nor forcing to choose. You'd be trained for combat, but unless necessary, you'd manage communications and other logistics."

"Why offer me this opportunity?" You mumbled, eyes on the photo. No matter how you tried, the shame of taking a life just didn't click. You had survived and saved those men. 

Sighing, the brunette leaned back to think. "Because Clint thinks that you'd make a good addition to the team." A smile twisted her lips. "And so do I."

You don't remember what else was said, but Hill was slick and silver-tongued, so you were persuaded to try it out. And once you failed, she promised, you'd go back to fighting printers and hunting down paperclips.

Surely you couldn't be a secret agent, working beside superheroes, right?

"Oh fucking hell, no way," Laura Simmons hissed through her teeth, green eyes locked onto the doorway.

Curious, you turned your head in the same direction, figuring out the cause of your friend's reaction almost immediately. Captain Steven Grant Rogers was standing behind agent Barton in all his majestic pure-bred american glory. There had been rumors that the good Captain might start training recruits, but few thought much of those hopeful whispers. You'd been part of SHIELD for about three months, trained by various specialists in combat, weaponry, surveillance, language and other fancy sorts of spycraft. Most of them hadn't stuck (you couldn't learn a new language if your life depended on it), but some of your talents had improved enough to be described as average. Hand to hand combat, however? Not so much.

Hence, why you were stretching with Laura's group, waiting for the session to begin. You were all part of the less-kung-fu-inclined members of SHIELD that required Clint's gentle ass beating to stop kicking yourselves in the face. While the blonde beside you was all but salivating at the sight of the super soldier, you were looking at agent Barton, waiting for an explanation.

"All right, kids," He started with his trade-mark smirk. "Our Captain is going to try and whip you into decent shape. Not many get the honor, so get ready for sweat and tears.Follow orders. Make me proud." He clapped the Captain on the shoulder pushing him towards the recruits that were still pretending to stretch.

"Oh there will be sweating, all right," Laura murmured, her smile rather frightening. 

Laughing silently at the words you listened to captain Rogers speak to your little group and took a few moments to appreciate the physical beauty of the man. However, once he told the you to get into positions (followed by Laura's filthy comment about her preferences), your mind quickly placed him into the 'Mentor' box and that was that. 

In the following weeks the amount of female recruits that were suddenly struggling with hand-to-hand increased exponentially.

"...you okay?" Agent Barton was squatting in front of you, one side of his face raw from cuts and abrasions marring the skin. You tried to focus, remember where you were, but everything was blurry and your thoughts felt syrupy. The ringing coming from every direction was disorienting as well. It caught your attention and made you space out. Your name being murmured worriedly had you glancing back at the archer with a frown.

"What happened?" It came out as a very unpleasant rasp. Breathing hurt and you could barely stay conscious.

"They blew up the base, you got hit by the debris." Judging by the way the archer swayed, he wasn't feeling peachy himself. "We need to get to the extraction point. You up for some walking?"

"What about the others? Where's Captain Rogers?" Trying to stand up took way more effort than you were used to.

"Don't know. The comms are down and I haven't seen any movement since the explosion."

Nodding, you picked up a sniper rifle, checked it for damage and started looking at your surroundings through the scope. The building that Captain Rogers and four other agents entered less than - you quickly glanced at the watch - an hour ago was completely destroyed. The trees around it had been scorched by the blast and some of them had caught fire, illuminating the gloomy January morning. You and Barton were relatively far away, but bits and pieces of concrete littered the frozen ground around the two of you. Anyone that had been near the building was bound to be in bad shape.

"Any sign of them?"

Just as you were about to answer 'no', three people emerged from the rumble on the farthest side of the building. Captain Rogers was the easiest to recognize, despite wearing the same dark tactical gear as everyone else. He stood tall, shield in one hand and another supporting a smaller feminine frame. Laura, you decided. Another senior agent whose name you didn't remember limped behind Rogers.

"Yeah, three of them. Seems like Rogers covered them from the blast."

"All right, let's move," Clint murmured and started limping and swaying between the trees.

"Not yet," You grumbled, eyes still on the group. "They're out in the open and I'm pretty sure at least two of them are in no condition to fight."

"Wow," Was Clint's response. Glancing up at him (just for a sec) you raised an inquiring brow. "This is your third field mission, kid, yet here you are, giving me orders?" There was no reprimand, just fondness and slight teasing.

Snorting at him you focused back on surveying the area, eyebrows scrunching in confusion. Clint followed your example. The agent behind Laura and Rogers was slowing down, pulling out a pistol. You searched frantically through the field, looking for any signs of danger. But it didn't make any sense. Why hadn't he warned the Captain, why...

Clint shouted a warning at you, watching the scene through binoculars, as the agent took aim. You felt the same crystal calm descend on your mind. It had happened in every combat situation you faced and by know you were thankful for such a bizarre skill. Your thoughts sharpened, everything slowed and felt... clear, precise. Barton called it adrenaline, but you had a feeling that it was more than that.

The pistol was aimed at the unsuspecting Captain and there was no time to adjust positions, to warn Rogers. Exhaling into the cold you aimed and pressed the trigger. Once, twice. It wasn't an easy shot but guns were one of your strong suits. The bullets whizzed between Laura's and Captain's heads, startling them both and removing the threat. You should have been sickened to take a life, yet there was a certain satisfaction to perform such a clean kill from a significant distance.

You stayed in position, while Laura checked on the fallen agent and spoke to Steve. He seemed to reply her questions in short sentences, but the entire time Captain Rogers' eyes were locked onto your position. Not in suspicion or anger. Instead there was a very bittersweet smile on his lips and the look in his eyes was filled with heat.

The bar was filled with laughter as Newman recounted the rest of their mission, including what was now dubbed as 'the Frisbee of doom' performance. One casualty, a blown up building and 64 stitches later the job was finished. It was a common practice for the group to meet up, drink and recount the stories to the others. The three agents Romanoff had been patiently grooming to work surveillance with her had also returned from their mission. Obnoxiously loud and prone to alcoholism, the agents behaved much like children after a school trip - everyone was excited to share what they could (secret spy stuff stayed secret, but any awkward stumbles were made public) and get too drunk to move.

Barton and Romanoff were a bit further from the group and Rogers (as usual) was not present, but all in all it was a good evening. You were properly buzzed by now to listen to the 'OHMYGAWD SO HAWT' speech that Laura just kept gushing ever since 'Stevie' (as she addressed him now) had covered her from the explosion. The amount of innuendos the woman could fit in a sentence was incredible.

"You know, I'm not exactly feeling the gratitude here," You pouted, a smirk pulling at the corners of your lips. "I saved your ass as well."

"Bah," The blonde laughed, wincing when the broken ribs reminded of their existence. "As impressive as that shot was, nothings beats having a sweaty, dirty national icon grunting and pressing you to a corner." Taking a long sip of her margarita she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

You simultaneously laughed and chided yourself for picturing that scenario in a non-combative setting.

There was a strangled groan and the two of you whipped around to see Rogers standing not so far away, beet red and trying to ignore Natasha's predatory grin. The poor man had entered the bar just as Laura was starting her sentence and his enhanced hearing picked it up without problem. 

"Hello, handsome," Laura all but purred, not embarrassed in the least. "What can we do for you?"

He sputtered a greeting and rubbed the back of his neck in awkwardness. A few others greeted the Captain but with a single look Barton sent them back to their conversations and moved closer to the blond. At the sight of hungry femininity, Captain Steve Grant Rogers, the national super soldier, spun on his heels and began his quick retreat.

...only to be stopped short by Clint, who threw an arm around his shoulders and nudged the good Captain towards the table that you and Laura had occupied a few hours ago. You won't lie, seeing the expression on his face, you snorted. But so did Natasha.

"Hey, girls," Barton was sporting an evil grin. "Rogers here could use a chance to wind down. Think you can help him do that?"

"Oh _yes_ ," Laura grinned, her eyes predatory. "I'll go get something strong for you, Stevie. You two want anything?" You shook your head.

Laughing at how excessively the blond was swaying her hips, you motioned towards the empty chairs. "Why don't you boys take a seat."

"Thanks," Rogers murmured as he chose the one closest to you, eyes shifting around the place, cheeks still flushed. "Is she always like that?"

You could have said no, but seeing the super soldier squirm was far too amusing. "During the very first class she mentioned something about helping you wash up after you got all sweaty." You waited a moment for him to look you in the eye before continuing with a smirk. "Using nothing but her tongue."

Clint was laughing merrily as Rogers ran a hand through his hair, groaning in embarrassment.

"So, Captain, why the sudden appearance?" You inquired, genuinely curious. Rogers had never joined agents on their drinking spree before.

"Nat thought it would be a good idea for him to mix it up a little," Barton explained, a laid-back arm resting on Laura's chair. "And we figure you girls," he grinned as the blonde placed Steve's drink on the table (lots of cleavage was involved, even you stopped to stare a bit), "Know how to get an old man to relax for a while."

At Laura's sultry and your mischievous laugh, Captain looked five seconds away from bolting. It was _fun._

"Sorry, about this, Rogers," You grumbled, unlocking the door and stepping to the side to let him pass. "She tends to overindulge."

Not quite coherent, yet still determined to make the Captain squirm, Laura muttered something about indulging in Steve. You couldn't help but laugh. She was certainly a woman of commitment.

"You know I would prefer it if you would call me Steve," The man grinned, placing the limp blonde on the sofa and turning to you. "All my friends call me Steve."

Letting out a faux gasp you pretended to faint. "My God, Captain Rogers, what about fraternization? What will people _think?_ "

He snorted. "I'm pretty sure no one is going to say anything about you using my name, especially not after Simmons' latest declaration."

"Which one? The whipped cream or the gallop one?" At his unimpressed look you laughed. "Sorry, sorry. Well, _Steve_ , I'm glad I get the honor. Why _do_ I get the honor, though?"

Not thinking much about it, you placed a worn blanket over the drunk woman, and motioned for Steve to take a seat on the love-seat.

"You did save my life today," He shrugged, the strange look back in place.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, it's just..." Giving you a quick glance, his blue eyes turned back to stare at the fingers twisting together. "That was quite the shot. For a moment it reminded me of an old... friend."

Understanding dawned on you. "It's a great honor to be compared to James Buchanan Barnes. Thank you, Steve."

Nodding the man gave you a soft smile.

"Come on, Simmons," You goaded, dodging her attacks and feinting. "I've met secretaries that could hit harder."

"You," Laura panted. "Are..." Dodge. "...a secretary."

While technically true (your training had been finished for months and you spent most of your time behind a desk), SHIELD ensured that skills instilled in their members did not get rusty. And hell, you enjoyed it by now. Hooking a leg around the woman's ankle you both stumbled to the ground, your knee ramming into her back, arms fixed in a painful position.

"Yeah, Simmons. Precisely my point."

Laura laughed, twitching in your grasp for a few moments before you released your grip.

Giving your friend a hand, you glanced at the figure watching the two of you and winked. "Enjoying the show, Rogers?" Despite his permission, it didn't feel right to be overly familiar with Steve in the workplace.

Steve's lips were twisted in a smirk. "Not bad. For a girl."

Laura was smart to quickly step away, as you slowly turned to face the man. You didn't have much of an audience, but those agents that were present watched on without shame. During the last few weeks you and Steve had grown a bit closer, a bizarre amount of ribbing and sarcasm serving as a shaky foundation of your friendship. However, it was the very first time you got baited to throw down with a super soldier.

"Ohohohoho," Eyes blazing you walked up to him, trying your best not to grin. "You wanna go, lil boy?"

"What if I do?" Steve meant to say the words lightly, teasingly, not... heavy enough to startle you both.

You didn't know how to answer that and watched him in silence. Luckily, there was a groan from the doorway, echoed by Laura's scoff. "Would you two stop flirting and just get to it, already?" A couple of eavesdropping agents snickered.

"Hey, Sam," Steve made sure to take a step back, much to your amusement. "What's up, man?"

"Fury wants to talk. Something big is about to go down, all hands on deck."

Nodding, Rogers gave you a strained smile. "Rain check?"

You exhaled in relief.

"Sure. I can wreck you whenever, Rogers."

SHIELD was in shambles. That's the only way to describe the aftermath of the entire Hydra fiasco. You supposed it could have been worse. It was a miracle that Fury had managed to remove the most harmful elements before the Uprising, but many agents didn't see SHIELD's victory. You did not get away unscathed, either - the left side of your face was covered in scars and your vision on that side was heavily impaired due to ocular trauma.

Laura Simmons didn't make it at all.

Despite the tragedy, there was no time to grieve. Fury rounded up all the remaining agents (god there were few) and sent them off to neutralize known Hydra assets and bases. Generally you worked with Clint, sometimes with Natasha, but it wasn't till months later that Fury finally sent you and two other agents to accompany Steve.

Captain America lead the most difficult missions, usually raids on fortified Hydra bases. Being told to join his team as a sniper was both an honor and a huge responsibility. With the fall of Hydra (no, you did not believe that it was going to stick this time either) your position as a SHIELD agent changed from managing logistics, to surveillance and sabotage. Too many field agents had been lost for you to refuse the 'promotion'. It was a stressful and taxing job that rarely yielded satisfactory results, but someone had to do it. It left little time and few opportunities to reach out to your family or friends, so the operation was the first time in nine weeks that you got a chance to meet with Steve.

He didn't look good. The constant physical and mental blows he kept on getting had left dark circles under dull eyes. Trying to exterminate the remaining Hydra and chasing after Bucky was a lot more than field work. It left the man crippled with doubt, hopelessness and guilt. Living in constant radio silence also meant that Steve couldn't speak to you, no matter how much he may have wanted to. And yet, the sight of you, even scarred and exhausted as you were, made his heart twist in grief and happiness simultaneously.

Neither of you spoke much during the mission. You spent the entire time behind the scope, taking out any runners, while Steve cleaned out the facility and Agent McCoy downloaded their data. Things went relatively smooth and 18 hours later everyone was back at the safe-house. 

The knock at your door at 3 am was surprising, but it wasn't like you were sleeping anyway. You didn't sleep much these days. Your guest didn't wait for an answer and opened the door, his gaze taking in the moonlit room and gun parts carefully placed in front of you.

"Hey," Steve stood on the other side, still damp from the shower.

"You should be sleeping," You scolded, even as your hand motioned for him to take a seat on the bed.

"So should you."

Sending him a smirk you went back to meticulously cleaning the parts. He was silent for a very long time, watching you work with heavy dark eyes. It wasn't until you finished putting the rifle together and into its case that he spoke.

"He used to love the damn thing," There was terrible sorrow in those words. "I would sometimes joke that he cared about it more than he did about himself..."

You waited in silence, watching Steve wrestle with his emotions.

"... and he would agree, say that it was the only thing that could keep a punk like me alive." He watched the ground, not sure of himself or of what he was saying.

You sighed.

"Laura sometimes joked that were I to tend to a man as much as I do to the rifle, my love life wouldn't be so barren," Pausing to catch his gaze you smirked. "There were a lot of handjob jokes involved whenever I cleaned it."

It startled a laugh out of Steve and you moved to sit beside him on the bed. "I'm sorry about Barnes, Steve," Nat had told you that he and Sam were trying to find the infamous Winter Soldier. "You'll get him back."

Exhaling deeply, Steve hunched, shoulders tense with doubt and anger. "What if it's no longer him. What if I can't?"

Your fingers gently carded through his hair, while you looked out the window. It wasn't easy to ignore the tears on your friend's face.

"Then you will say goodbye." It may have sounded cold to an outsider, but judging from the way Steve relaxed, it was precisely what he needed to hear. However, you could tell that there was something more, something far more painful to admit.

When he finally whispered it, your heart broke, for while his words were "I love him.", they meant "I will die with him."

Grasping his wide shoulders, you pulled him closer, your own eyes glistening with tears. Whatever the price, you were going to make damn sure that Steve wouldn't have to fight the man he loved again. Under the circumstancea, it may have felt like an empty promise, but you had a hunch that Barnes could be recovered. Eventually.

But for now, for now you could listen.

"Tell me about him."

Tony Stark was a genius and absolute madman in one. Luckily, his solution for your pirate problem required a mad scientist that enjoyed challenges.

"I didn't get the colour right, but at least your spatial vision is restored," He muttered, taking a step back to look at your face. "All right, lady Cyclops, tell me what your StarkEye sees."

Taking the time to get used to the silver prosthetic, you moved your eyes, changed their focus, before nodding. You weren't an Avenger and Tony Stark most likely didn't even know your name, but, thanks to Steve, the billionaire had taken the time to make you an ocular prosthetic far more advanced than anything on the market. You were genuinely grateful - it had felt like you were becoming a liability to SHIELD due to impaired vision, so the ability too see things clearly nearly brought tears to your eyes.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark, it's working perfectly." If he noticed how chocked up you sounded, the man was decent enough to pretend otherwise.

"Bah, call me Tony." His eyes were pleased, though. "I'm working on a new model that will include night vision and higher magnification, but for now this will have to do. Now shoo, Capsicle is probably wearing a hole in my new floors."

Nodding you exited the lab, nearly smacking into a wall of muscle. The super soldier caught you at the very last moment, the pull bringing you chest to chest. The fact that he didn't even blush said a lot about how worried he was. Ocular surgery was, after all, particularly delicate - one slip and it becomes brain surgery - even you were distressed before.

"Hey, Steve, I thought you were going to wait downstairs?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just..." His eyes skipped all over your face, searching for any signs of pain, stopping to look at the prosthetic that imitated an eye perfectly, if not for the unnaturally silver iris. "I was worried. You okay?"

"Yeah. How does it look?"

He watched you a moment before smiling softly. "You look beautiful."

Laughing you swatted him away. It wasn't the first time Steve paid you a compliment, but you still weren't sure how to react. So as always, your mind turned to work. "Any news?"

"Not yet," He tried to sound nonchalant and failed miserably. "Clint mentioned having a lead. I guess we'll see."

"I guess we will," You murmured, slightly guilty for keeping your plan from him.

But this was for the best, after all. You were not letting him anywhere close to the Winter Soldier, until you were sure that it truly was Barnes.

"Maybe I should come with, it's not like Fury has been giving me much to do," Steve muttered, for the 100th time, a frown twisting his face.

"It's nothing that would require Captain America's help," You assured, again, and picked up the black nylon bag with all your gear. "I'll be back in a bit, stop whining."

He was not quite certain of it, a deeply unsettling feeling twisting in his gut, but nodded nonetheless. "Be careful."

"Pfft, why make it boring?"

James B. Barnes was an attractive man underneath the gruff exterior and grime, you had to admit. It didn't really change the fact that you were pissed at him, but at least you could enjoy the view, while he was patching up the bullet wounds.

Your plan was equal parts suicidal and genius. You were going to ambush him and talk.

A less kind person might call it even completely suicidal (thanks, Clint), but you were feeling optimistic. Your surveillance proved what Steve had suspected - Barnes was hitting Hydra with everything he had. The soldier was going at it like a one-man army: seek, destroy, restock, recover, repeat. During the past four days you saw him wipe out three underground facilities.

He didn't do it untouched, sadly. A couple of times you were seconds away from breaking cover and going to his aid. Thankfully, Clint was there to drag you back by the scruff. A few times literally.

You watched the infamous assassin slowly checking his body for wounds with feminine appreciation. Barnes stood dressed in boxers, the powerful muscles tense underneath bruised skin. While your practical side was cataloging the lesions and bullet wounds, the more primitive part of your brain was whistling ' _Steve, you lucky bastard..._ ' It took him 3 hours in total to take out the bullets and suture the wounds, but he did so without anaesthetic. You were legitimately impressed.

Your legs were properly asleep by the time Barnes shut off the lights and retired to bed.

"All right, Barton, I'm going in, watch my back."

Not even 30 minutes later you slipped through a window, that Clint had sabotaged earlier in the day, and landed in the darkness with barely a sound. The tranquilizer was in your left hand as you made your way towards the body in the bed.

Frankly, you had expected what happened next.

He moved much faster than you had ever seen Steve do. There was no time to dodge, so you let the metal prosthetic wrap around your neck and squeeze. The fingers were freezing, but you still had the urge to joke 'Harder, daddy', just to see what he would do. Barnes was taller than you and your feet hung at least a foot above the ground, keeping you at eye level with a very furious (and ridiculously sexy) ex-Hydra assassin. 

"Heya, Buck," You choked, plunging the tranquilizer into his neck. "We need to talk."

His reaction was swift and brutal. You flew through the room, broke through a _wall_ and landed against a bookshelf. The pain was... wow. It was bad.

Out of the corner of your blurry vision, you saw Barnes saunter towards you, his left arm gripping a knife.

Only when he was about a foot away did he sway a bit. There were no witty one-liners, no banter. He just grasped you by the hair and prepared to slice your throat open, much to your annoyance. Luckily, Barton was ready with more tranquilizer and shot the supersoldier. It didn't take him down immediately, but Barnes lost his balance for a second, and you managed to roll away from the slash. During the next lunge, the meds kicked in and the Winter Soldier finally fell down on his face.

Your glorious Stark tech eyeball showed you everything in perfect night-vision mode. You made a mental note to ask Tony for a way to record things with it.

"That's it?" Barnes scowled at you suspiciously. "You're just letting me go?"

"Yep." He looked at you as if you were nuts. How rude. "Look, I did this for Steve. I had to know whether or not he was chasing the real Bucky and now I do. So yeah, you're free to go. Go eat some Hydra babies for lunch of whatever. Just know this - Steve won't stop looking for you, so you might as well go and talk to him yourself."

"I'm... I'm not the Bucky he knows."

"Oh Boo-hoo, princess," You hissed, annoyed that this man was keeping Steve waiting. "You had some bad stuff happen to you. Well, guess what - he won't care. It's still you. Steve will greet you with open arms, no matter what those assholes forced you to do."

Clint had left the room, so it was just the two of you. The corner lamp was struggling to illuminate the room, but the pensive expression on the man's face was clear. You might have showed him more than you intended, for Bucky watched you with calculating eyes before asking. "What are you to him?"

"A friend." You snapped, defiance oozing from every pore.

He nodded thoughtfully as if it had been a completely different answer, and took a step towards the door. "I'll think about it."

After all the shit you went through just to talk to the man? He better. But it wasn't like dragging him back to SHIELD would be conductive to rehabilitating him - forcing a man, who had had decades of no control, to do something he didn't desire was bound to backfire. 

Whether reading your body language or seeing the annoyance in your eyes, he left with a smirk. You hoped letting him go had been the right thing to do.

Steve was furious. Fractured ribs and radius, a ruptured spleen were all very painful and required medical care, but the sight of the finger-shaped bruises at your throat made him livid. Nothing you said seemed to penetrate into his thick skull and it didn't help that you were lying about most of the mission. Steve wasn't stupid (mostly). He could tell that you weren't being honest. That being said, he was extremely gentle and caring with you.

"Steve, for the love of God," You groaned, embarrassed when he offered to wash your hair. "I can do it myself."

You had just gotten home, when Captain America began his mother-hen performance. Sam, being the sane man that he was, had abandoned you two alone almost immediately, and you were left to handle the earnest worry by yourself.

"Let me help, please." You were just about to argue, when he muttered your name again, this time without the faux whine. "Please."

You didn't really understand what had him acting as such, but if Steve was going to feel better for having washed your hair in a sink, who were you to say no to the man.

You did love him so after all.

"All right, but no funny business."

He snorted and set things up. As embarrassing as it was, you had been starved for such care, and the simple sense of having your hair washed made you long for more. Steve, meanwhile, tried to smother his worry and irrational guilt by helping you as much as he could. 

There might have been moaning and possibly a whimper when Steve massaged your scalp. Neither of you mentioned that when you groaned, he merely smiled at you with dark eyes, nails scratching gently at the skin.

Contrary to everyone's belief, the life of a superhero was not bad guys and explosions 24/7. Some days you and Steve got to blow off some steam doing normal things, such as watching a movie or grabbing a bite. Sam joined you more often than not, and even Clint or Natasha manifested whenever an opportunity presented itself.

Today was one of those days, much to your surprise. You returned home relatively early, for you, after handling communications for one of Clint's operations. Despite having spent the entire day in a chair, safely away from the field, the stress of watching after others and coordinating movements had left you dead on your feet. So when you finally entered your apartment, ready to crash on the couch and play a very believable part of a log, and saw Steve hunched on the aforementioned piece of furniture...

"The fuck, Rogers?"

The room had been decorated in a very festive fashion, and there was a cake on top of your counter. You placed your bag and took off the coat with slow, precise movements. Steve watched you the entire time, barely suppressed childish glee in his eyes, his hands placed suspiciously below the table. The background noise of the TV did not hide the _Mrau_ that came from the floor.

"Steve..." You began, equal parts amused and annoyed.

He jumped up quickly, grasping a wiggling box between his calloused fingers. "I know, I know," He spoke before you could begin chastising. "You didn't want anything for your birthday and everything, but... after all you have done for me, for everyone, really, I wanted to say thanks." His smile turned sheepish in the end and, goddamn him, it all but melted your insides. "So... umm... Thank you!"

The box was promptly thrust against you, rather enthusiastically, which elicited a painful hiss from both you and whatever was behind the cardboard.

"Steve, please tell me that I'm misunderstanding things and this isn't a cat that I'm holding," You sighed with faux exasperation. "You do know that I'm allergic, right?"

The words had the intended effect. Steve started apologizing profusely, while you carefully set the gift down and ripped the flimsy bow away. A beautiful grey-white kitten leap past you and sprinted underneath the table, pupils wide and tail swishing furiously. It was so very very tiny and, damn your heart, you knew you were keeping it.

"...Sam will, if there's no other choice, I just never thought to a-"

"Steve," Laughing, you placed a consoling hand on his arm, stopping him mid ramble. "I was joking. The kitten is adorable, thank you." The flustered Steve was a gift all by itself.

"Oh, okay then," He exhaled, shoulders drooping with relief. "God, I thought I messed up again."

"You didn't," Glancing around the room revealed your newest tenant carefully exploring the premises. "Why a cat, though?" 

Smiling, Steve placed an arm around your shoulders and shrugged. "You kept mentioning how empty the apartment felt, and it's difficult to take care of a dog with our hectic work schedule, so... I thought Major was a nice compromise."

"Major?" You tried your best not to notice how close your faces were, but it was futile. Steve laughed, his breath washing over your lips, the brightness of blue eyes consuming your common sense.

"Yeah, he's kinda... bossy."

"I don't know, he looks more like a soft, gentle clou-" you began with a laugh.

Outraged by your description (or simply because he was a cat), Major swatted down a picture frame from the highest shelf he could reach. Then the seemingly innocent ball of fluff plopped down and yawned, claiming the shelf as his own.

You didn't argue the name any further.

"All right," Grinding your teeth, you took a sharp turn and started making your way towards the Avengers Tower. "I get it. Ten minutes."

Receiving a call from Tony Stark was relatively unusual. Receiving one from Pepper Potts? Twilight zone stuff. Getting a call from Pepper Potts, telling you that _Steve_ of all people had gotten drunk and might hurt himself? Incomprehensible.

Then again, today would have been Bucky's death anniversary, had the fall killed him, so you weren't really surprised.

You hadn't told Steve that you had spoken to Barnes. Clint had assured you that eventually the moody ex-assassin was going to come around and talk to Steve himself. Sadly, months had passed, and while the population of Hydra agents was barely in the double digits, Bucky was still dodging his best friend.

You found Steve in the private gym that was usually accessible only to Avengers. The super soldier was doing his best impression of the Hulk, going around throwing and smashing things. Had it been you throwing a drunken tantrum, Tony would have grabbed you by the scruff and shouted about a broken a mirror or two. Captain America's destructive power was on a completely different level. Dumbbells were sticking out of concrete and multiple (expensive) machines had been ripped from the floor and basically folded like beer cans. Thanking Ms. Potts for calling you and taking a deep breath, you stepped into the room.

The doors closed with a distinctive click that seemed to echo, but Steve didn't turn around from where he stood facing away from you.

"You weren't kidding about increasing your work-out difficulty, huh?" Despite the attempt to lighten the situation, you were worried.

Your words wrenched a strangled laugh out of Steve and he tried to drown it with a big gulp of what could only be Asgardian mead. "You shouldn't be here."

"Well," Stepping closer, you eyed the dents in the weights littered around (holy _hell_ you wouldn't be able to lift them, much less throw those things around). "It was either me or Banner, and you've inflicted enough property damage as it is." Finally reaching his side you placed a calming hand on his bicep. "Steve..."

The first thought that entered your mind, when he grabbed you shoulder and slammed you against the wall, was that it was going to hurt. However, your mind did not enter that creepy calm that you utilized during most combat situations, nor did Steve hit you. On the contrary, there was a clatter as the bottle joined the chaos, and suddenly Steve's lips were on yours. Desperate, _hungry_ and somehow terribly lonely. The smart thing would have been to push him away immediately, but you had spent months fighting the temptation to taste him exactly this way, and you were, after all, human.

Grasping his shoulder with one hand and pulling roughly on the blond strands with the other, you returned the fervor, fueling the fire and breathing in Steve's pain. Lips and teeth clashed, while his hands roamed your body, finding your legs to lift them up around his waist and press you harder against the wall.

The kiss ended as abruptly as it had started. One second you were devouring each other and the next Steve was dropping your shaking legs and walking backwards, his face twisted in shame.

"I'm sorry, I-... I shouldn't have done this," There were tears in his eyes, but his lips were still bruised from your kisses. "I'm sorry." The big man seemed to shrink before your eyes, folding in on himself underneath the strain of all those bottled emotions.

Kneeling in front of him, you pulled the soldier into your arms and let him weep.

"I miss him," He whispered your name. "I miss him so fucking much and it's _my fault_. It's my fault he was forced to kill them. Jesus, Howard was a friend and they made him _kill_ the man." You weren't sure what Steve meant, but the general vibe of guilt was clear. "I should have looked. There was no body and I should have _looked._ "

"Steve," You brushed your fingers through his hair, your own eyes moist. "Listen to me very closely. Whatever happened, Bucky's still out there. He's _alive._ And yes, what he went through is horrible, but _it's not your fault._ "

"I-..."

"No, Steve, Barnes didn't tell you about the serum, because he didn't want you to worry. Doesn't take a genius to deduce that. And he wouldn't have wanted you to risk your life looking for a dead man, when there was a mutated-Nazi-overlord trying to take over the world." Kissing the top of his head softly, you growled. "And he will come back to you." _If he knows what's good for him._ You added silently.

Steve mused over the words silently, the tears drying on his face, while you rubbed his back comfortingly. Minutes passed before he looked up at you, that beautiful face still full of shame.

"I'm sorry for..."

Trying to play it cool you just shook your head, interrupting him once again. "Nothing to be sorry about. It was, granted, the hottest make out session I've ever participated in, but I get it." A lovely blush coloured the man's cheeks. "You're lonely and sad and I was just standing there, all hot and everything."

Laughing, finally, Steve shook his head. "You remind me so much of him, sometimes. But I'm still sorry. I guess I kinda lost it for a bit."

Trying not to flinch at the fact that you were used as a second-rate Bucky, you stood up. "So what happened? I heard that you had returned from a mission and hit the booze."

Steve sighed, but told you all about Howard's death, Stark's fury. He also spoke of the other things that the Winter Soldier had done. And you listened, your heart slowly getting ripped to pieces.

Good lord, how much the boys had suffered.

Eventually, everything that Steve needed to unload had been said. So you cleaned the gym as much as you could, and spent the evening watching movies together.

Neither of you mentioned the kiss for a very long time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right. I kinda overdid it, I guess. What should have been a one shot turned into three lengthy chapters. *sigh* Anyways, this is the second one.  
> I'd like to thank all of you for leaving kudos, and enormous thanks to Wandering_singer and KendallNS for their kind words - made me preen, not gonna lie. This chapter was cooked five times faster because of you, guys. ;)  
> All right, do enjoy.

Bucky, being the drama queen that he was, chose the 4th of July to finally come up to Steve's door and say hi.

Now, it wasn't quite that simple either. It was 3 am in the morning and you were crashing on Steve's sofa after a very short but productive night of drinking during Tony's party for Captain America. The party itself had been good, you think. Truthfully, you can't remember much after seeing Steve flirting with a beautiful leggy blonde and ordering six shots (the bartender had assumed you were planning to share them with your friends, and had been reasonably impressed when you downed all of them in quick succession). You have vague impressions of Steve blushing furiously, more alcohol, complimenting Nat's butt and finally a bumpy cab ride. Steve must have left his bike and taken you back to his apartment. 

So, here you were - inebriated on a creaky piece of furniture. Had Bucky rung the doorbell, you most likely wouldn't have noticed. The fireworks and Steve's loud neighbours hadn't bothered you after all. Unfortunately, the big bad assassin decided to pick the lock (which was supposed to be impossible, thanks for false advertising, _Tony_ ). Despite the racket outside, the faint sound of someone breaking in was something you noticed.

Once more, so there aren't any misunderstandings: it was 3 am when you drunkenly woke up to hear someone pick a lock and a menacing hobo-looking dude sauntering into your friend's house.

Your reaction was justified.

You launched yourself at the intruder much like a rabid cat - all claws and war-cries. Barnes easily sidestepped the assault, letting you spin and slam against the wall in all your drunken glory. You could see from his face that the attempt had startled the man far more so than intimidated, which only bolstered your blood-thirst and you spun again, surprising the enemy long enough to tackle him onto the couch. By that time Steve was wide awake and rushing out of his bedroom to your defense, shield in hand. Barnes grasped your hips, ready to throw you away (again), but froze when Captain America turned on the light. It took Steve at least a couple of minutes to accept the fact that his long lost friend and lover was on his back, with you straddling his waist and trying your best to stay awake.

"Hey Buck, I guess you're about to tell me that this isn't what it looks like."

Bucky's introduction to the Avengers was neither smooth nor quick. His days as the Winter Soldier had left him with a lot of enemies and even more psychological scars. However, having Steve vouch for the man made all the difference. Sam and Clint were the first ones to truly accept the ex-assassin - Clint had had a very similar experience and Sam had worked with enough abused people to recognize the signs. Tony, understandably, kept his distance as did most of the other Avengers, but everyone was legitimately polite.

Captain America and the Winter Soldier became a powerful duo. Although few picked up on the true nature of their relationship, out in the field no other pair of agents or Avengers was as coordinated as they were. This didn't happen overnight, of course. They argued and avoided each other at times, guilt making it difficult. Nonetheless, anyone that knew Steve could tell that a painful burden had been lifted from his shoulders the moment they rekindled their relationship. Which is perhaps why it hurt all the more so that you barely got to glimpse at your friend.

In the days that followed, you didn't bother texting or calling. Barnes had brought in a lot of intel and SHIELD was busy planning and executing new operations. Not to mention, Steve was bound to start spending a lot of time helping his lover adjust. So you kept your distance. At first, you didn't mind staying in the office, working behind the scenes. You assumed that with time, once Barnes had gotten used to being an Avenger, Steve would reach out and mend your friendship. 

Yet days turned to weeks.

You tried to call, but Steve was always either busy with work, or busy. At times, you hated the fact that he was a terrible liar, for you knew that he was brushing you off. Eventually, you took the hint.

Clint and Sam tried to cheer you up during the Steve-withdrawal, sadly with the increased workload, there was only so much time they could spend with you. And movie nights were never the same.

You found other ways to deal. You started spending more time working out, to the point that every other day you'd return home just to crash, cuddle with Major and go back to work within a few hours. Eventually, even the constant exhaustion stopped dulling the sting of being discarded. Volunteering for field work was probably a foolish idea, but you did so anyway. As a reserve-only field operative you had been on the bench (so to speak) for a while, so Hill started you off slowly. The first two ops were purely surveillance and then the next couple of missions that followed kept you behind the scope. Taking it as a hint that Hill didn't trust your hand-to-hand you sought to remedy that.

Natasha's inquiring eyebrow was surprisingly interrogative.

"It's fine if you can't," You shrugged, slightly disappointed. "But everyone knows that you're really skilled at taking down guys way bigger than yourself and I could use a few tips."

The woman watched you until you were squirming where you stood.

"Fine. Tomorrow at six. The Tower."

You missed it at that time that this wasn't a favour but a threat.

On the seventeenth day of Natasha's Training from Hell Barnes walked in on you curled into a ball and howling in pain. You didn't see it at the time, but the froze at the sight of you on the ground, Natasha standing with hands on her hips and rolling her eyes.

"Everything okay here?" The man cautiously approached the part of the gym that you had decided to haunt once the redhead finished you off. 

"No," You groaned, flipping to lay on your back. Nat merely nodded at the man in greeting, her eyes still focused on you. "Nat has ripped my kidney in half, but doesn't have the decency to end my suffering."

Your vision was still blurry from tears (it hurt like a _bitch,_ okay?), when you finally rolled over to face Barnes. The man looked better than he had the night at Steve's apartment. He had shaved and pulled the shoulder length hair into a rarely-seen decently looking man-bun. The shadows under his eyes were gone, and, although he didn't look as he did in the past, you could see that he was slowly reclaiming his sense of self. The moment he recognized you was obvious. His eyes widened momentarily, followed by a tense step backwards. Heh.

"Heya, Buck," You greeted him just to quell any doubts. "How're doing?"

The black Widow watched your exchange with naked curiosity.

"Good, good," He took a step forward as if considering helping you get up, but stopped before he could extend a hand. "Steve's been helping me... adjust."

"Good. That's... good."

"Yeah.."

As far as awkward silences went, this one was rather impressive.

"How do you two know each other exactly?" Nat cut through the tension with typical precision.

Standing up and cocking an eyebrow at Barnes you shrugged. "I jumped him, when he broke into Steve's apartment." You finished your statement with a hiss and a stumble that he instinctually moved to intercept.

During the two weeks you had spent under Romanoff's gentle care, you had been taught three things. One, anyone can be taken down. Two, there is no such thing as a fair fight and pretending otherwise gets you killed _fast_. Three, take every opportunity and don't hesitate. Three simple rules that Natasha had been teaching you by bruising every inch of your skin.

It wasn't really his fault that you were pissed. Thinking rationally, it was not Barnes that had forgotten to check in with you or had cancelled movie nights.

But Steve wasn't there, and the Winter Soldier was.

Barnes tried to steady you with hands on your shoulders, but instead you moved under them, shifting your weight until one of your hips rammed into his lower back and you _tossed_ him to the ground. It was dumb luck and the element of surprise working together, yet your victorious screech could be heard in the adjacent rooms.

"That's for throwing me through the wall!"

The man lay on the ground with wide eyes, his lips fighting a smile, while you did your victory dance. It was a short-lived performance. You barely noticed his movement in time to do anything about it. The silver limb shot at your left ankle, making you jump away. He still caught it mid air, silver fingers locking like a shackle, and pulling. The face-plant you performed was nothing short of an artistic expression. You remained sprawled, shock written across your face till your attacker snorted. By the time you had recovered enough to sit back up, Barnes was laughing and even the Black Widow had a smile on her face. You did not notice how beautiful he looked with a genuine smile. You did _not._

Your brief victory wasn't for naught. Motivated by spite, during the next training session with the red-head, you managed to trip Nat enough to receive the Nod of Acceptance. Things were starting to look good. 

"Hey," A familiar voice sounded a few feet behind you.

You didn't turn around at first, emotions warring on your face. The situation felt surreal - it had been so long since Steve had spoken to you that you had almost forgotten the way your heart stuttered with longing whenever he was near. Thankfully, there was enough noise in the hall to hide your shaky sigh. It was a New Year's party, and, as most Stark coordinated gatherings went, the billionaire had pressured the entire team into attending. You wouldn't have even considered joining them had Sam not sweet-talked you into it. Having been lured by promises of drinks and tiny cakes that could tempt a saint, you had agreed to a friendly date with the Falcon (how did your life go this way, again?). Hence why you now stood before Sam in his immaculate grey suit, a champagne flute between your fingers as Captain America awkwardly shuffled his feet behind you.

"Hey, Steve, Buck," Sam greeted, noticing your discomfort and placing a comforting hand on your waist.

Putting on a polite smile you turned around, unconsciously pressing against your date, and nodded at the two super soldiers. The silence that stretched between your group gave you enough time to take in the men. Steve looked... He looked really good. The fact that he was in a perfectly tailored navy suit, his hair tamed certainly had something to do with it, but the most beautiful part was that you could see him glowing from within. The reason for Captain America's happiness stood to his left, dressed all in black. While Steve wore a stiff smile, Barnes didn't even bother, those gunmetal eyes alert and uncomfortable. Side by side they looked like complete opposites, but you had a suspicion that beneath his calculative personality and paranoia the Winter Soldier was equally as protective and caring as Steve. They were like a dewy morning and a roaring storm - forces of nature that were beyond mortal reach.

And you were very much mortal.

Deciding that the safest option was to avoid talking to Rogers entirely, you turned to his brooding partner. "Hey Barnes, how come you're here? Rumours say you only leave your room to eat babies and frail old ladies."

Sam let out a startled laugh, while Steve's eyes bulged, much to your amusement. Most SHIELD agents treated Bucky with respect and fear that his past profession deserved. They tip-toed around the topic of Hydra and previous trauma. You, meanwhile, had no survival instincts and decided to tweak the wolf's nose a lil bit. Anything to defuse the awkwardness stewing between you and America's golden boy (who had totally ghosted you). 

Smirking at you, Bucky leaned in a bit. "I'm considering adding some variety to my diet, doll." The threat was delivered in a deadpan voice, but it was clear that he was mostly joking - his eyes were bright.

A decent person would have stopped there, but you were three drinks in and had to keep Laura's memory alive.

Not breaking eye contact, you mimicked Nat and raised a questioning eyebrow. "Did you just threaten to eat me, Barnes? In front of Rogers?"

This earned you a jolly laugh form Sam, while Steve turned red as a cherry and spluttered out your name in a chiding tone. Even Bucky grinned (your heart did _not_ skip a beat at that), grey eyes flashing with humour. Playing along, Sam wrapped his arms around your waist and turned you away from the ex-assassin.

"Oi! Hands off my date, you vagrant!"

Laughing, you missed the surprised look flashing across Steve's face.

"Really," Nat spoke your name. "What is it with you and Barnes?"

The Black Widow had managed to sneak up on all four of you in six inch stiletto heels. You returned her smile with a shrug and wiggled away from Sam's hold.

"I haven't done anything yet!" Key word: yet. You were down to hand wrestle with Thor himself if that was going to save you from speaking to Steve.

It took Natasha two seconds to figure out how to make the situation more awkward. "Steve, why don't you ask her to dance, before they start brawling like two teenagers?"

Eyes wide, you shared a shocked look with Steve, not noticing the shit eating grin on Sam's face nor the spark of curiosity in Barnes' body language. The two of you started murmuring excuses, but with a few decisive words from both Bucky and Sam, Steve extended his hand and you took it. Neither of you spoke, too lost in your own thoughts. It had been months since Steve had spoken to you directly and his presence, his scent were overwhelming you with emotion. You wanted to scream at him for abandoning you like an old pair of shoes almost as much as you wanted to close the distance and melt into his embrace. The kiss at the gym flashed through your mind at least five times in the time it took you to get to the edge of the dance floor.

Steve, meanwhile, was doing his best to stay calm. You could see him swallow with difficulty, when he placed warm hands on your waist and started to sway to the music. His blue eyes were fixed behind your shoulder, unfocused, and the way his jaw muscles clenched looked rightfully painful. This wasn't easy for him, you understood. You hadn't been completely forgotten. Perhaps, you could at least force an explanation as to what had caused the rift between you two.

"Steve," Murmuring softly, you swayed to the music, taking small steps left and right. "It's okay. I'm not going to shout at you or anything." Moving your left hand from its place on the wide shoulder (the navy blue material was incredibly soft to the touch), you brushed a thumb against his tense jaw muscles. "Your dentist will be pissed if you keep grinding your teeth like that."

Letting out a soft laugh Steve turned those blue eyes to you, the skin around his lips tight. The apology was plain across his face and you lost all intentions of yelling at him. Surrounded by the gentle piano music, he slid one hand to your lower back and pulled you slightly closer, leaning in to speak. He had worn the same cologne you had given him on his birthday. Concentrated on breathing, you didn't notice his eye grow darker when your pulse quickened or the way he shivered when your fingers dug into his shoulders. There was still a respectable distance between the two of you, but it felt much more intimate than a simple dance.

"I'm sorry," Voice hoarse with emotion, Steve closed his eyes. "I didn't mean to shut you out."

"Then why did you?" the words came out small, sad. Goddamn, you were trying to go for stoic.

"It's... it's complicated." It wasn't, not really, but he had been trying to put it into words for weeks and nothing he could come up made this any easier.

Giving him time to think you glanced around the room, finding Bucky speaking to Natasha in a dark corner. They seemed to be arguing about something, judging by the tension in the man's shoulders. The moment your eyes landed on the pair, they lifted their heads to meet your gaze - the miniscule expressions conveyed worry, hope and curiosity, noticeable only to those that knew the assassins. It was the first time you really noticed how similar Nat and Barnes were.

"Having Bucky return was like getting a part of my life back." Steve had followed your gaze, eyes smouldering with love for the man. "He is, was and will always be my top priority."

Hiding a wince you nodded and looked at the ground instead.

"At least I thought so." You could feel his heavy blue eyes on you, yet kept stubbornly staring at the ground. "But somewhere along the way you slipped into my life and suddenly things weren't quite so clear anymore."

Mind reeling, eyes wide your gaze met Steve's. He couldn't be saying what you thought he was, right? You'd been having dreams like this (some not exactly PG-17 rated, you'll admit, _especially_ after that kiss), but _nothing_ in your bizarre life had indicated that Steve could ever feel this way about you. And even if.. if he did _like_ you, what about Bucky? You glanced at the man in question, who was watching the two. If you were sure of anything, it was of the love and passion between the super soldiers. You couldn't get between _that._ No way. Steve was a shadow of himself without Barnes and the Winter Soldier would destroy himself were you to take his place.

And just like that you understood Steve's need for distance.

He watched it dawn on you with a sad smile, dreading the next words. Perhaps you should have pleaded to be given a chance. However, no matter how much you wanted to memorize every inch of his skin, Steve's happiness meant far more to you. You sighed, pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek and stepped away. Out of the corner of your eyes you saw Barnes straighten his spine in surprise.

"I love you too, Steve," Taking in a big breath and being an adult about the situation, you gave him a weak smile. "And I understand. Now can we put this issue aside? I desperately miss my best friend." 

The rest of your evening was spent pleasantly without any further complications. Sam was an excellent date and after chewing him out for setting you up (yeah, you figured it out), you truly did enjoy his company. Speaking to Steve was difficult at first, the vulnerability of what had happened between you two still fresh, but you were too happy to have reclaimed your old friendship to mind the awkwardness all that much.

And, much to your surprise, Barnes (who had totally been on it with Natasha) easily filled the uncomfortable silences.

You danced and laughed, until exhaustion set in.

"You sure you don't wanna stay for the countdown?" Sam questioned as you pulled on a coat and started walking towards the exit.

"Nah, I don't think I'd survive the remaining hour. This week has been difficult."

Pouting, he made a big show of getting in your way. "But I didn't even get a kiss!"

Rolling your eyes at the man-child, you swiftly stood on your tiptoes and gave him a friendly peck on the lips. "There, happy?"

"An hour too early, but it will have to do, I guess." His grin was warm. "I'm glad you and Steve worked through whatever _that_ was. See you on Monday?"

"Yeah, stay out of trouble." Just before leaving the building you glanced over your shoulder. "And thank you, Sam. You're a good friend."

Things went back to how they used to be.

You were fiddling with the plates, when the doorbell rang. A grin split your face as you skipped to the door and opened it without checking the peephole. Steve had suggested reviving movie nights and you were hosting the first one. Barnes and Clint were coming over as well and a feast had been prepared for the boys while you waited: gourmet mushroom risotto, ricotta and fruit graham cracker snacks, three types of tea sandwiches, homemade pizza and, finally, the chocolate lava cake. Every surface was squeaky clean, even Major sniffed at the apartment suspiciously, his fur brushed and nails clipped.

Excited, you? Pfft...

"Oh!" You froze, startled at the sight of Bucky (alone) on the other side of the door. "Where's Steve?"

"Evening to you too, doll," He grinned, not taking offense. "What, am I not good enough?"

Teasing him good naturedly, you stepped aside and motioned to come in. "I'm just worried about my apartment. We don't have the best record of being civil towards each other."

"Keep your hands to yourself and no one will get hurt."

The man took his time to look around the place, reminding you of the way Clint, Sam and even Steve had assessed the place the first time they saw it. It's an occupational hazard. Bucky looked good dressed in casual clothing and relaxed. You smiled when he took off the gloves and jacket, not hiding the prosthetic.

Too focused on the windows and available weaponry, Barnes missed a white cloud of destruction darting towards his legs. Major had, much to your amusement, appointed himself as security. He had grown remarkably and was currently the size of a Cocker Spaniel. Bucky's startled wheeze when the cat barreled into his legs was expected. It wasn't quite enough to take the soldier down, but the force unbalanced Bucky enough to have him grabbing at a nearby shelf, the wood creaking under the strain. Major received a furious glare and swished his tail in challenge. A fight was about to break out, and no matter how much you wanted to see the Winter Soldier get wrecked by your cat, the possibility of being on the receiving end of Steve's Disappointed Sigh made you intervene.

"Sergeant Barnes, be nice. That's Major and he's the man of the house." You chided, grinning at the annoyed look on his face. "Additionally, I'm pretty sure he outranks you. Respect your superiors."

"It's a _cat._ "

"And you're a big baby. Now come on, I'm going to get properly drunk before Steve gets here, 'cause I'm not watching Lord of the Rings sober for the sixth time. You're welcome to join me."

February in Ukraine was _cold_. The room you had set up in was supposed to have central heating, but the rusty radiators were as dead as your hopes for a peaceful night.

Working with Bucky was... a unique experience.

"That's not how you position the rifle," He muttered, watching you set up, easily looking down on your kneeling form. "You're sacrificing mobility."

A growl. "I know," You genuinely considered kicking the bastard (let a girl dream, c'mon). "But this increases precision."

"A good sniper doesn't need tricks to hit a target," He just _had_ to reply in a mutter, sending your blood boiling.

The bickering had been going on for hours. Whatever Steve had been thinking when he set the two of you up, he was going to get his boy-toy back without hair (it was long and looked soft, so naturally you were tempted to rip it all off). The two of you were stuck on a stake out, with Bucky ready to engage directly as soon as the target entered the building, and you positioned to give him cover. It would have been a standard op on any other day, had it been Clint or one of the senior agents taking point. Barnes, however, made it into torture - the man couldn't stop nitpicking every fucking thing you did.

"What the fuck is your problem?" You didn't take your eyes away from the scope, but your patience was at its limit. "When exactly did I step on your balls?"

This wasn't the first confrontation either. Whenever Steve had left you two alone, the snark and disapproval would rear its head. You genuinely couldn't remember having a civil conversation with Bucky ever since the movie night.

And it wasn't even your fault. Probably.

Not expecting an answer you focused back on observing the area, taking note of every little detail. Just to give yourself something to do, you started counting the windows of every building. On the 67th Bucky spoke.

"I know that Steve has... confessed."

Tensing up all the way to your toes, you took in a calming breath and exhaled through the nose. How _exactly_ were you supposed to talk about this to him of all people?

"It's fine," Bucky drawled. "I've known it for a while." The fake nonchalance didn't fool you for a second.

"How?"

A shrug that you saw from the periphery vision. "I've known Steve since we were kids. I can tell when the punk's in love."

Turning fully to face him, you watched the emotions shift faster than you could decipher them. Anyone would feel insecure, after all. Hell, had Steve not known that Barnes was alive, that day at the gym might have gone a lot differently. You would have assumed that Barnes was pissed that his boyfriend... liked you, but something told you that this wasn't jealously speaking.

"There's nothing going on, Barnes, I swear. We're just friends."

Your different coloured eyes met his grey ones, lips pursed in confusion. Steve's confession had rattled your life, undoubtedly. However, mending your friendship and getting the chance to unload your own feelings had been cathartic. Wanting _more_ did not negate your appreciation for what you had. And having Steve back as a friend was more than enough - no one could have everything that they wanted in life.

Bucky snorted and ran a hand through his messy hair. "I know."

"Then what's the problem?"

You watched him work through various emotions some more, until his shoulders slumped and face twisted into a frown. 

"Steve deserves to be happy."

"He does." You agreed, eyes back on the building.

"He deserves someone _worthy_ of him." The words sounded wrenched out of the deepest part of Bucky's soul.

The pieces clicked in place.

Bucky didn't disapprove of you. He didn't feel insecure or annoyed by your relationship with Steve. Quite the opposite, in fact, he knew that the only reason Steve had distanced himself from you had been because of _him_. You tried to imagine how it must have felt, reclaiming one's self after living through decades of abhorrent things, finding that safe harbour from hatred, only see the person you loved above all else giving up a part of his happiness to be with you. You thought back to all those interactions between them and realized that Bucky had never dared to initiate contact. Hell, now that thought about it, the man had constantly provided you with opportunities to be closer to Steve. 

Good God, this entire time Barnes had been trying to set you up with his boyfriend.

Wait, was _this_ why Steve had suggested the two of you work together on the op?

Technically, it was between him and Barnes, but forced together with the brooding super soldier you couldn't just pretend that this conversation hadn't happened. You had to say something.

"He deserves to be happy, loved, Barnes, above all else."

"You do love him, though."

"As do you."

"I'm not... what he needs."

Letting your gloved fingers brush against the metal of his prosthetic you shrugged. "I think we both can agree that if Steve deserves anything, it's to get what he wants." Pinning the man with your gaze, you finished what had been made clear to you at the New Year's party. "And he has decided that he wants you, Bucky."

"I see him," You murmured, the same perfect calm settling on your mind. "Brown jacket, blue scarf. Early 50s, white male. Fits the description."

"On it."

Bucky didn't waste any time merging with the shadows and following after the target. It took him less than a minute to cross the street and disappear through the back door. However, his approach was detected and six additional people emerged from dark corners soon after. They headed straight for your location, not bothering to stay hidden. Shooting them now would have been a mistake - the target would have been alerted and could have called for backup. Not willing to put Barnes in a tight spot, you checked the handgun clipped to the belt.

"Hurry it up, Barnes, I'm about to have some guests."

He didn't reply, still in pursuit, but you were certain that it got through. Aiming the Beretta at the door with one arm, you noticed movement in the opposite building and cursed. Your position had been compromised at some point and things were about to get hairy on both sides of the street. Flipping a table for at least minimal cover, you warned Barnes of the situation, called for backup and prepared to fight for your life.

The door was blown inwards, bashing against the opposite wall and leaving a dent. The first man to enter took two bullets in the chest and collapsed, tripping the second one. Your next shot ripped through a shoulder and plunged into the abdomen of another goon. Hydra thugs were not the smartest folk out there, but they compensated with fanatic zeal. You heard orders and some words that you suspected were not very nice being shouted in German. The remaining agents took cover, but not before you put down the one with the shoulder wound. A long string of curses left your lips in a hiss when you turned to look at the other side of the street and saw two more units of five entering the same way Bucky had gone.

Crouching behind the table, you checked the magazine and growled a very informative " _Barnes, hurry it the fuck up_ " into the comm. Goon No. 4 was unlucky enough to glance around the corner while you were aiming at that exact spot, and received a bullet through the eyeball for his troubles. A flash grenade followed next, setting the carpet on fire and blinding your one good eye. Luckily, your silver eye was less picky and Goon Nr. 5 went down just like the rest of them. The fire was growing but not yet dangerously out of control and there were possibly two more enemies left, if the bullet to the abdomen hadn't been an effective deterrent to the third one. Thinking that going on offense was your best choice, you prepared to move out of cover, just as Bucky's voice yelled your name into the comm.

"This was a trap. There's a sniper on the third floor, dozens of Hydra operatives and the target is dead. This op's a bust. I need you to cover me and prepare to move out."

Glancing back over your shoulder you growled an expletive. Turning your back on the door was probably going to mean a bullet to the brain, but you'd have a couple of seconds to take care of the sniper and give Bucky a chance to get away sans holes. For all his harassing, you didn't even hesitate.

Diving out of cover you aimed at the third floor on the opposite building and found not one, but three snipers.

"I really need your help here, doll," Bucky was breathing heavy, gunfire in the background.

Inhale, exhale, shoot.

"One down, two to go."

In your peripheral vision you could see Goon No. 6 glance into the room and take aim.

Inhale, exhale, shoot.

"Gah, motherfucking hell," You screamed. The smoke gave you some cover and the bullet ripped through your shoulder instead of anything fatal, but it still hurt like a bitch. Luckily, the man pulled the trigger just after you did, which meant that two snipers had been taken care of.

Through the scope you saw Bucky burst out of the building and the woman on the roof take aim. There were heavy footsteps behind you, the 6th goon moving closer. The Winter Soldier shouted your name in warning and you made your choice.

Inhale, exhale, shoot... scream.

"Barnes," You groaned, feverish and pained. "You've got to go."

Standing beside the boarded window of your hideout, Bucky looked at the Hydra operatives patrolling the streets and ground his teeth. Chances were that neither of you was getting out. Your condition was critical, and even his super serum was not going to close the numerous wounds that he had received a few hours ago. It was simply too much. But alone, he could run. He could evade agents and perhaps even make it to the Quinjet, where the pilot was waiting. Yet...

He glanced at you, brows furrowed. You were propped against the wall and bandaged to the best of his ability, but there was a thick dark puddle on the floor already. Your face covered in sooth and blood, hair matted, eyes closed in pain. The Winter Soldier saw you as a liability, but Bucky... Bucky saw _you_. There was no way he was going to just leave you to die. Or worse, be captured by Hydra.

"Buck..."

"No and you can stop wasting your breath," He all but growled. "Hydra will move on eventually."

Gently, as if speaking to a child, you called his name again. "Bucky, if they get their hands on you... they'll use the Winter Soldier against Steve."

Bucky was about to answer something impolite, but froze - there was a commotion on the other side of the boarded window. Two men were speaking in hushed tones, moving around as is preparing to shoot through the wall. Eyes meeting Bucky's you grimaced. Out of ammo, wounded and outnumbered. You were out of time and you both knew it. Despite that, Bucky didn't run. In fact, he walked to stand in front of you, jaw clenched and knife ready.

 _'Goddamn it, I really do have a thing for self-sacrificing fools.'_ You thought with a grim smile.

Neither you nor Barnes had ever been as happy to see Tony or Sam as in that instant. The two Avengers had been alerted to your call for backup (just as you had assumed, Bucky was so used to working alone that he hadn't even considered calling for help) and managed to track you down just before two teams of Hydra operatives converged on your position. It was as close as it could get, but within fifteen minutes your were on a stretcher back in the Quinjet. Sam, bless his kind heart, gave you something for the pain that knocked you out within seconds, and the next thing you knew you were waking up in the medical ward of the Avenger's tower.

"You're awake." Bucky didn't look good, exactly, but he was freshly showered and bandaged at least. "How're you holding up?" You couldn't pin-point his expression.

"Good," The word scratched against your throat and Bucky quickly placed a glass of water in your hand. "Okay, not _good_ good, but I'll live. You?"

"I'll heal."

Awkward silence filled the room, making the beeping of the machines all the more annoying.

"What's the last things you remember?"

"Uh... Sam drugging me on the Quinjet. Why?"

Barnes stared for a few breaths before standing up. "Doesn't matter, I suppose. I should probably get Steve." He moved towards the exit like man on a mission.

"Hey, Barnes," You waited for him to glance over his shoulder. "Are we good?"

Distracted by the intensity of his gunmetal gaze, you nearly missed the slow nod and the miniscule fond smile.

Natasha was the first to notice the changes in the dynamic between you and the two super soldiers. At first, it was the little things - Bucky would nudge you with a shoulder, while you laughed, Steve would drape an arm around each of you, you wound mess up their hair without reservation. Then they started roping you into things - small time ops that did not need the Winter Soldier or Captain America, but somehow got mixed up. As suspicious as it was, working with them was enjoyable and you had no proof that they were doing it on purpose. It wasn't until you came in for your weekly appointment with Nat and found the boys waiting for you that things got weird.

"Wait wait wait," You waved your hands, definitely not noticing that Steve's sweatpants hung just a tad too low. "What are you saying?"

"The boys offered, and I have better things to do," Nat smiled at you, teeth showing. "I'm sure they'll take real good care of you."

"Natasha!" Gasping you ignored the suggestive tone of her words. "I thought what we had was special!"

"Sorry," The redhead gave you a friendly pat on the ass as she walked past and out of the gym. "It's not you, it's me."

Snorting you turned back to the... holy hell they looked good... super soldiers.

"Any particular reason why the two of you have offered to beat me up?"

Laughing, Steve motioned at Bucky. "His idea. We figured you could use some variety."

"Why?" The question was directed at the broody one, who watched you with a lazy smirk.

"I have a theory," He supplied and shrugged, the metal of his prosthetic gleaming. "It will be good for you to fight a stronger opponent for once."

"Um... There's no way I'm doing this with both of you at the same time." You blinked, a flush colouring your cheeks. "It was not supposed to come out like that, I swear."

Both men laughed, Bucky's expression turning predatory. "How about you watch us go at it first and join whenever you're ready?"

"Bucky!" Steve laughed, punching him on the shoulder. Then he turned to you (your was face red but stoic). "He thinks you limit yourself to surveillance ops because you don't feel confident in your hand-to-hand. He figured we might help."

"Uhh... Nat's been teaching me just fine?"

"Maybe," The Winter Soldier took a step forward, his eyes doing that intense-stare that made your knees a little wobbly. "But who do you think trained _her_?"

It began slowly. Steve was used to playing by the rules and he made you try out different offense and defense tactics, while Bucky stood on the sidelines and gave you tips on how to fight dirty. After half an hour of that, however, things changed.

"All right, why don't we try this in real time?" Steve suggested, enjoying your sour expression.

"I'm not fighting you, Steve, no matter how much of a jerk you can be."

"Really? That's fine. It was Bucky's idea anyways." The shit eating grin made your lower eyelid twitch.

"I-"

He came at you without warning, just as fast as you remembered him being. The flesh arm wrapped around your waist and tossed you a good ten feet across the gym. You landed in a graceful heap, cursing his entire lineage.

"Now this brings memories," Bucky _strutted_ towards you, sending a wink at Steve, who gave him a confused smile in return. "C'mon, get up." Begrudgingly you obliged. "Atta girl, dodge."

This time you were prepared, ducking under the right arm and dashing forward. However, you weren't quick enough and Bucky grabbed you by the scruff and pulled hard enough that the material of your shirt ripped just before you fell on your ass. The tear was barely there, but you had _liked_ that shirt goddamnit. Annoyed you didn't try to run away again. Instead, you rolled with enough momentum to ram a shoulder into Bucky's legs (Major had known what he'd been doing). The Winter Soldier fell forward, gracefully turning the momentum into a roll.

Things got interesting.

You were neither super fast nor good at this, and Barnes was definitely going easy on you, but you _were_ keeping up with him. Having seen him sparring with Steve you could anticipate movement just enough to avoid soaring through the sky against your will. Captain America remained on the sidelines and muttered advice, until eventually, you were too exhausted and hid behind him, waving your hands in surrender. Sweaty, messy and with enough bruises to colour your butt blue, you drained a bottle of water and gave the boys a wide grin. You didn't notice the way Steve's eyes tracked the drops of water running down your skin.

"Okay, this was _fun._ "

Chuckling, Bucky moved towards you. "Good, next is the gun range."

"Wait, what?" Too slow to avoid his hands, you ended up tossed over his shoulder. "Bucky, put me DOWN! Gah! And stop touching my ass, you pervy old man! I need to get to work! Steve," You tried to plead. "Help!"

"Sorry, doll, it's better to go along when he gets like this."

Kicking your feet without reservation you screeched one final "Traitor! You are _dead_ to me, you hear?"

Bucky simply winked at his boyfriend.

Training with the HAWT duo, as one of the agents had dubbed them, became the new norm. You grew confident enough to start going on missions that were more challenging, including those that involved the Avengers, as well as solo ops, much to Steve's concern. Tony improved your prosthetic to record video/audio and even modified your tactical suit with fancy gadgets. All in all, you were practically part of the family.

Unfortunately, the life of a superhero was risky as hell, and being prepared didn't always ensure victory. Growing closer with the Avengers also meant painting a target on your back. Eventually, Hydra figured out that you could be useful and set up a trap.

You were captured.

The first part of any good torture is making someone wait. The bad guys get bonus points if the chosen location has no windows or distinguishable interior decorations. Hydra knew all about setting the scene. They kept you in the dark for approximately four hours after the tranquilizer wore off. Your weapons and tactical gear had all been removed, leaving you in sports underwear, but at least the slashes at the elbow and ankle had been stitched and bandaged. You tried the leather binds that tied you to a stainless steel table, and avoided thinking how it matched the description of Bucky's torture location during the war. The bindings held strong, not allowing you so much as to inhale deeply, much less turn your head to look around.

All in all, it could have been worse. You just hoped that Tony would be able to track you through the eye-prosthetic as he had done during the last time you 'd been in a dire need of help.

The Hydra agents started by turning on the light. It blinded your organic eye, but the prosthetic adapted fast enough to show you a face of an old woman and tree young brutish looking men leaning over your supine body. The woman looked familiar, though you couldn't place her no matter what. The eerie calm did not change as she watched you observing her.

The sound of metal clattering reached your ears and she finally spoke.

"Hello," The woman addressed you by name, which was not creepy at all. "I hear you've been causing trouble."

It wasn't a question and you weren't exactly in a chatty mood anyway, so you remained silent. There was more shuffling, mutters in a language you didn't recognize. The woman watched you with a motherly expression.

"I know what you're thinking," She said, the accent in her voice barely noticeable and difficult to pinpoint. "You believe we're going to torture you - tear at the flesh and break fragile bones, inject you with poisons and abuse you emotionally." She shook her head and produced a simple notebook, visibly enjoying the startled expression on your face. "You are wrong." 

"Ugh, if you're planning on using the trigger words on me, I wouldn't get my hopes up. I don't think brainwashing is contagious." You muttered, eyes darting around and trying to avoid the blaring intensity of the light.

"Oh, child," She chided, clearly amused. "We truly have outdone ourselves, haven't we?"

A talkative mad scientist. Awesome. You were going to stall and give the boys a bit more time to get you out - while no damsel in distress, you were being realistic.

"What are you talking about?" You questioned, straining to see the men moving behind the scientist.

"Does the name Mikkel Heggen ring any bells?"

"No, should it?"

"Why no, as a matter of fact it shouldn't. Not unless his conditioning failed." She flipped through the book idly. "Ah yes, here we are. Subject #007916. 10 y/o, female." The woman began listing the names of your parents, relatives, kindergarten and school teachers and friends.

The more she spoke, the more agitated you became. Something was very wrong. You hadn't lied that the name was unfamiliar, but that _number -_ 007916 - was something else entirely. Hearing it was not unlike hearing your own name. What the hell was going on here?

"What the fuck are you doing?" You growled, interrupting the blabber.

"This is the acquisition form, child," She skipped a few pages, smiling kindly down at you. "All the information Hydra had collected before they killed your parents and transferred you to doctor Heggen."

"What?" You really wished you could slap the chick. "If this is some sort of a roundabout threat then you really need some training, little lady."

The woman didn't argue. She simply continued reading from the book.

"Subject 007916 was acquired following traumatic events. It suffers from PTSD and shows signs of a dissociative identity disorder. The emotional instability should make the transition easier. We'll begin the treatment tomorrow. May 12: Electric shock at 120 V and 60 Hz. Resuscitation. Subject showed signs of dissociation and... "

As the woman continued to read, you found yourself tuning it out. Instead, an onslaught of terrible terrible images flooded your brain. You wouldn't have called them memories. No, it was like watching a movie of a child being slowly tortured to insanity, conditioned and trained to kill, and then, after it was nothing more than a tool, giving it a name and a past. You screamed in agony, trying to drown out the words, but deep within your heart, you knew it to be true.

Bucky might have been the deadliest assassin Hydra had brainwashed, but he was not the only one.

"Nonononono," Your sobs would have been soul wrenching had anyone besides you in the room been truly human. "This can't be happening. You're lying, you've got to be."

"Oh, honey," The woman stroked your face, nails dragging against the skin. "When was the last time you reached out to you parents, hmm...? And did you really think that getting that job or walking in on the creature were coincidences?"

No. No, it's couldn't be. How could you have not noticed that you had never bothered to call to your family? That calm that took over every time you had to fight. The lack of guilt for taking a life. How could you have not questioned all the things falling into place so perfectly? No _No NO_ **_NO_**.

In desperation, you turned to the one detail that didn't fit.

"No, had I been a sleeper, you would have activated me with the rest of Hydra during the uprising."

The woman laughed. "There was no point in it. Back then you had no value."

The men did something to the table and suddenly you were upright, staring at the woman and burning her face into your brain with undiluted hatred.

"But now, as an associate of the biggest freaks in America, now you do."

The trigger words that followed were far more painful than any physical torture they could have resorted to.

"Subject 007916?"

"Ready to comply."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. So finally finished the ‘short’ story. Had a bit of trouble getting this chapter right but while not completely satisfied, I figured this was the best I could do for now.  
> Thank you all, once more, for reading. I am truly very happy to see that this fic was fun to read for some of you.  
> KRN, thank you for the kind words. ^_^ I too prefer to have relationships develop over time, even if it does make a oneshot into three long chapters. :D  
> KendallNS, Luna P and thenewslenderman - Glad the twist caught you by surprise. While it was a cliche sort of a character origin, I am happy I managed to make it a bit less obvious than usual.  
> And, well, this is it. Thank you for all the kudos, kind words and simply just for reading. ;) Good luck to everyone!

  
  


It took Bucky 24 hours to realize that you were taking too long. At first, he didn't tell Steve. He went to speak directly to Agent Hill, who told him that something had indeed gone wrong, you hadn’t checked in at the appointed time, but protocol stated that SHIELD couldn't begin the search until 48 hours had passed. Countless agents would sometimes go radio-silent and reappear within a day or two. 

Bucky told her to go fuck herself and went to find Stark.

  
  


Rogers enveloped you in a bone crushing hug the moment you entered the lobby. 

"Thank God," He exhaled, soaking up your warmth, and ignoring how tense you stood. "We’ve been worried sick. Bucky was already suiting up for a rescue mission when you called. What took you so long?"

Taking a step back you shrugged. "Had to take a detour, nothing major."

You hadn't noticed Barnes at first. He stood close enough to listen in, but far enough to overlook. While Captain Rogers looked dishevelled but relieved, Barnes was coiled tight, ready to spring at any moment. There was a thoughtful frown on his face and, dare you say it, dread. You noted that both of his hands were tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket.

"Hello, Barnes," You greeted with a polite smile. "How have you been?"

  
  


You finished stirring the tea, the last of the white powder dissolving in the amber fluid. The boys had always had a sweet tooth, and you were happy to oblige. There was a knock at the door and a quick glance at the clock confirmed that it was 6 PM, just as you had agreed. Wiping your hands on the pants, you walked the short distance and checked the peephole. The two super soldiers were on the other side, smiling at the door. On any other day you might have noticed the strain in their expressions, but today you were concentrated on other things. 

Barnes stepped in first and you noted that he had two handguns and a couple of knives on his person. He gave you a reluctant hug and moved towards Major. The cat had been fussy ever since you got back - hissing and snapping whenever you approached it - but it greeted the super soldier with sluggish affection. Shrugging, you turned to Steve, who looked at you strangely. He wasn't armed. 

"Hello, Rogers," You smiled. It felt uncomfortable. "Come on in, the food is getting cold."

The two men shared a look before Rogers started asking you about the movie you had chosen for the evening. You explained it to the best of your ability as you moved around the room and set things up. The cat was asleep on the floor in a bizarre twist of limbs before you finished. There was some meaningless chit-chat while you ate, and then everyone settled down to watch one of the fiction movies people had recommended to you on one occasion or the other. 

Rogers was the first one to doze off, and Barnes followed soon after. You hadn't drugged their food or drinks, so them barely touching food was useless. Instead you had dispersed the airborne agent using a humidifier, and inhaled the antidote before dinner. Hydra rarely used what had been dubbed as the Spindle - a nonfatal chemical that slowly anesthetized people. Lethal doses in the air couldn't be reached and the effects lasted approximately 2 hours - all in all, a terrible tool for assassination or crowd control. However, in your case, it was exactly what you needed. Taking into account that their metabolism was going to deal with the chemical faster, you got to work.

"Желание," You began, wondering why such a simple word felt so malignant. As a matter of fact, when did you learn Russian?

"Ржавый," Rogers stirred and you sat beside him, a knife Barnes had gifted you for Christmas between your fingers - just in case. 

"Семнадцать, Рассвет." Captain America awakening and stopping you was a risk you couldn't take.

"Печь," You stood up and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. 

"Девять," The knife gently bit into his skin. 

"Добросердечный," Barnes's lips twisted in a silent snarl - the drugs were wearing off, but not fast enough to stop you. Taking in a deep breath, you spoke the last words.

"Возвращение на Родину, Один, То-"

You plunged the knife that had been against Steve's throat into your own abdomen, a confused shriek of agony leaving your lips. The movement had not been intentional - you were supposed to terminate _after_ activating the asset. Collapsing to the ground in pain, you removed the knife with a hiss - why would you do that? you were going to bleed out before the mission was concluded! - and took in a deep breath to finish the words. Except that you couldn’t. You heard Steve's drowsy voice asking what was happening, but your mind was too fractured to answer. Something was horribly wrong - you couldn't _think_ through the pain in your body, much less do anything. Startled by your screams, the asset, no - Bucky awoke and blearily looked around with terror in his gunmetal eyes. The sight made you sick and satisfied simultaneously. Steve stumbled to your side, his hands immediately going to the wound in your abdomen and screaming something at Bucky, who was clearly disoriented - both from the drugs and the words. There was so much noise, so much pain, but the only thing you could focus on was that something was _very_ **_wrong._ **

A compulsion like nothing you had ever experienced kept you alert and conscious - the mission had to be completed. _Nononono._ Winter Soldier had to be activated. _Bucky...not Bucky..._ **Who were you to question orders? You're a tool, a soldier meant to carry out this mission and terminate. Comply.** _Cold grey eyes, Steve's pale lifeless face._ **Comply**. _Bucky weeping, blood on his hands._ **Comply**. _No, no, no..._

 **Comply**.

_No._

**Comply**.

Bucky dropped to his knees beside you, holding a packet of ice wrapped in a towel. Your feet were elevated and Steve kept the pressure on the wound with one hand, while he spoke on the phone. The men moved slowly, their faces pale and horror stricken. Neither could have stopped you from muttering the last phrase meant to activate the Winter Soldier. But you could. Your eyes tracked to the prone form of Major. Good God, what if the concentration in the air had been enough to...

**Comply.**

It was not unlike a physical strain, the need to carry out the mission - you felt crushed under the weight of obligation, and it twisted your own perception to the point where you almost believed that you wanted to do it. However, glancing at all the blood on the floor, you sensed that you had to hold on just a little longer. Just enough to prevent all of Bucky's nightmares from recurring. God, these men had suffered enough. You were not going to add to that. Whatever the cost.

You hadn't noticed that you were sobbing, until Bucky wiped the tears of your face, his expression full of anguish. He was speaking to you, something gentle, judging by the kindness in his eyes. All you could hear, however, was the booming command. **Comply. Comply. Comply.**

You held on.

Darkness followed.

  
  


Waking up in a hospital bed was not what you had expected. The room wasn’t familiar and there were no windows to tell the time, but judging by all the machinery, drainage tubes and catheters, you had been here awhile. Keeping your eyes open took as much effort as sparring with Nat had used to, but you took in the surroundings with the same detached clarity that you utilized in combat. Your whole body was completely numb - drugs, you concluded - and whatever compulsion had driven you was still there, just less pronounced. Hissing through the disinfectant-smelling oxygen mask, you pulled off the blanket, the flimsy bandage and took in the damage to your abdomen. 

The wound itself hadn't been wide, but stabbing was bound to leave a lot of internal damage, which is why, presumably, they had needed to perform a laparotomy. The surgical cut extended vertically through the middle of your abdomen, crossing the knife wound. With mild amusement, you noted that the scar was going to resemble a sword. Pretty neat, all things considered. Though your bikini seasons were going to be a bit less fun.

The wound wasn't fresh either. How long had you been here? 

You stared at the machinery and the attached the IV for a few additional minutes, but being alone in a dimly lit room was rather boring. You didn't even notice the beeping that signaled your pulse just fading away - your last thought was of Steve and Bucky. 

You hoped they were well.

  
  


The next time you awoke, someone was in the room with you. 

You were once again in a lot of pain, and the people immediately registered as potential threats. Staying still didn't fool the heart monitor and it started beeping faster, alerting whoever was nearby that you were regaining consciousness. Cool fingers brushed against your forehead and with a snarl, much like a wounded animal, you lashed out at whoever was hovering above your wounded form. Clint caught the weakened hand without much of an effort, looking worriedly at the man behind him. They spoke in hushed voices, giving your mind time to settle down. You felt and probably looked like shit, but it was nice to see that no one had handcuffed you to bed. Yet.

It took you a few seconds to recognize Bruce Banner, to whom apart from the usual mission-related stuff you’d spoken to three times in total. He watched you curiously, seemingly not worried that you were going to overpower Clint (which you weren’t, but pride was pride). For the life of you, you couldn’t figure out what he was doing in your hospital room. 

"Hey, kiddo, you with us?" Clint lowered your arm carefully without letting it go. His grip was meant to comfort instead of restrain. 

It was a question loaded with unspoken inquiries. Were you lucid? Were you still under the compulsion? Did you recognize him?

Grunting in reply, you turned away. Someone had taken away your prosthetic, leaving you half blind. In your weakened state, it made you even more uncomfortable - the simple task of tugging your hand out of Clint’s grasp left you exhausted. Were anyone to wish harm on you, you wouldn’t stand a chance of defending yourself. 

Dr. Banner cleared his throat. "Should I get Wanda..."

"No, I think we're good." You could hear a chair being dragged closer to your bed and the archer plopping down onto it. "Give us a minute, Bruce?"

The sound of doors opening and closing was the only indication that the older man had left. The drugs were dulling your senses, though not by much - you heard him speaking to someone, most likely on the phone, on the other side of the door, his voice placating. Not being able to make out the words, you turned your focus back to the man beside you. 

"Do you remember what happened?" Clint had been your mentor and friend for years, so it wasn't difficult to notice the faux neutrality. 

Memories made you visibly shrink, the voice in your head that had screamed **COMPLY** resurging with vengeance. You wrestled for control and nodded, still avoiding Clint's eyes. The pain in your head and abdomen was seeping through the drug induced numbness.

"Stark showed us the recording from your prosthetic," Clint's voice grew gentle. You jumped when his fingers grasped yours once more. "It wasn't your fault."

You didn’t speak for a very long time and he took it as an opportunity to explain what had happened after you had passed out. Steve had not been thinking too clearly due to the drugs, and the first person he had called had been Natasha. She had coordinated your retrieval and transportation to the nearest hospital, from where - following surgery - you had been moved to the Avenger’s tower that you were currently staying at. You had undergone three separate surgeries and had been in a medically induced coma for a week. Visitors hadn’t been allowed till yesterday, which was your tenth day at the Avenger’s tower. All in all, you were extremely lucky to be alive after pulling a stunt like that. It didn’t feel like it. 

"Are they okay?" The words were all but a croak and ended in a coughing fit.

A glass of water was placed in your hand and Clint gently removed the oxygen mask from your face. 

"You didn't say the last trigger word, if that's what you've been wondering, not that it would have worked." Startled, you finally glanced at his face. "You didn't actually think that we were letting Barnes go on Hydra related missions with the conditioning still functional, did you?"

The trigger words had been deprogrammed? Bucky had been safe? Well, now you felt like a drama queen. 

That information also gave you hope.

"How...?"

"Bruce could tell you more about it. That’s why he’s here. I just know that Barnes went through some sort of treatment and the trigger words don't work anymore. Had they worked, he wouldn’t have been able to move once you started."

You closed your eyes tightly and sighed - the relief was intoxicating. "Thank God...."

"Hey," Clint moved closer to the bed, pulling your form towards him, seemingly not minding the greasy hair. "It's okay, kid. The boys are fine. You didn't do any harm to anyone else but yourself."

Sorting through the memories of your evening once more, you started at yet another friend you cherished that had been hurt.

"Major?" 

"Last I saw him, he was wrecking Steve's and Bucky's apartment."

Your laughter was closer to sobs than anything else, but it was better than the cold calculating state Hydra had placed you under. You squeezed Clint’s forearm in gratitude, not willing to ask the final question. 

What was going to happen to you now?

  
  


Steve visited you as much as he could, but the shame of what you had almost done made it difficult for the two of you to communicate. You kept your answers short and gaze pinned to your clasped hands. He bustled around you in a very motherly fashion, making sure that you had everything you needed to the point that it felt like he was suffocating you. On some days, you barely even spoke, but he weathered it as best as he could. For all your crankiness, you were thankful. 

Nat, Clint, Sam and Tony visited almost every day, their presence easier on you. The room didn't have much in the way of entertainment, so Clint brought cards, Tony set up a TV, Sam supplied you with books and Nat, despite her typically cold exterior, broke every rule the doctors had set for you and smuggled some junk food every once in a while. It took a failed seppuku-imitation for you to finally understand that a bigger part of the Avengers had somehow become Family. They kept you company and helped with the physical therapy. 

However, no matter how kind and understanding the rest of your friends were, there was no sign of Bucky, and it _stung_. 

You didn't blame him. God, you had been about to do something that had nearly driven the man to suicide by Hydra in the past - even if you did fail spectacularly. Had you activated him as the Winter Soldier, he would have had to carry out the Asset’s last mission, and Steve would be dead. So you accepted that he wouldn’t want to see you. Nonetheless, understanding it didn’t mean that it quelled the hurt. Bucky had been your friend, a really good friend, in fact. Harming him in such a convoluted way made you feel like the biggest piece of shit. No matter how Steve and others insisted that it wasn't your fault, that you hadn't caused them injury, Bucky's absence said otherwise.

Having spent more than three weeks in bed, you had to undergo rigorous physical therapy. The couple that helped you - were patient and kind, even when you broke down sobbing. It was quite humiliating and difficult, made more so by Steve's underserved kindness and Bucky's silent absence. However, days turned to weeks and eventually you were physically well enough to go back... home.

You encountered the first problem the moment Sam unlocked the door to your apartment. You had a panic attack.

The man knew the signs and reacted swiftly, bringing you inside and murmuring ways to ground yourself and level your breathing. That was a mistake. Terrified that you were about to go back into the same Hydra mode that had calmly held a knife to Steve's throat, you… overreacted. Sam took the hint and carried you back to the car. 

Your breathing eased but the terror didn’t go away. Shaking in fear that you were about to lose control you curled into a tiny ball of misery. It seemed a lot colder in the car than it had been before. You felt humiliated and pathetic for having a breakdown like that, and didn't question where Sam was going to take you. The man kept murmuring general words of comfort, eyes fixed on the road and his own face sorrowful. It was a long drive in heavy traffic, so eventually, you dozed off to the sound of the car’s engine that reminded you so much of Major. 

Submerged in a dream of warm metal and cold dark blood, you started when the door opened and Steve's blue concerned eyes met yours. Of course, Sam had taken you to the one man, whom you didn’t wish and simultaneously longed to see.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" So kind, so concerned. God, you didn’t deserve friends like this.

The car was parked in front of Steve’s building, and you slyly checked the windows for a leaner man’s shadow, while Sam spoke in clipped sentences. You tuned them out, lost in the memories of Christmas, movies and board games. It all felt like a lifetime ago. Finally, Steve nodded to Sam and extended a hand for you to take.

"I- I cannot ask this of you, Steve," You whispered. 

"You're not asking," The blond smiled. "I'm offering. It's no bother."

"But what about Bucky?"

Steve watched you for a while, studying the circles under bloodshot eyes, the pale skin and tear-tracks on your face. "He won’t mind."

You hadn’t noticed the drizzle until you were out of the car, walking hand in hand with Steve, who held your fingers as if they were made out of glass. Captain America had always been depicted as an Alpha-male (Laura’s words, not yours) - confident, powerful, certain of himself. However, much like every idol’s, Steve’s humanity had been forgotten by the general public. He was a very gentle man with a lot of regrets and doubts. Having lost enough to be broken into pieces, he kept going to help others, to protect. You had always loved that about him.

And despite being unworthy, you still did.

  
  


You were seated on the sofa, dressed in Steve’s clothes. The room looked just as you remembered it, if not for the bowls of kibble and water. Your hair was still wet from the shower, but between the blankets and tea you were far from cold. Yet you remained curled, arms around your knees, as you waited for Bucky to return from the vet with Major. Tired, you watched the TV with empty eyes.

Steve called your name gently, his warm hand on your shoulder in a comforting gesture. 

“It’s going to be fine, Bucky is not angry with you.” 

“You guys have already done enough for me, I can find someplace else to stay,” Gritting your teeths, you shook your head. “It’s probably not safe for me to stay here, anyway.”

Sighing, the blond exerted just enough force to have you lean against his side. The warmth and comfort of his hug was so very very nice that you nearly forgot all about leaving. Steve had always radiated safety, no matter how bad things got. You just wished you could return the favor.

“You’re not going anywhere, until you’re ready, all right?” Steve pressed a kiss to the top of your head and hummed thoughtfully. “Besides, it’s too late to run anyway,”

“Wha-”

As if waiting for that specific moment, the door opened smoothly and a very disgruntled super soldier dropped a carrier box. You couldn’t help but snort at the sight before you. Bucky was drenched and miserable, which would have looked far less confusing had he not been _pouting_. 

The fact that the Winter Soldier hadn’t noticed you or Steve watching him, said a lot about his mood. Sure, he might have expected his boyfriend to be out, but you weren’t exactly hidden and the TV was on.

You tried to move away from Steve, but he held on, giving you a mischievous smile. Bucky peeled off layer after layer, oblivious to the audience, until he was left in nothing but underwear and a T-shirt (which was white and soaked, so...). Your face was positively red and the oh so innocent Captain America’s eyes were heavy with things unspoken. Bucky picked up the pile of wet clothing, opened the carrier box, and _finally_ looked around the apartment.

Major left the confines of the box faster than you had ever seen him move, dashing around the place until he noticed your presence. The cat approached you carefully, eyes curious. You held your breath, while he took in your scent, and debated whether you were friend or foe. 

At the same time Bucky, who was still wet and miserable, stood frozen in the hallway, his eyes on you and Steve cuddled together under a pile of blankets.

With a contented mrauw, Major plopped onto your lap (the boys had been spoiling him, he was even heavier than before), and twisted until he was warm and comfortable. Choking back tears, you brushed his dewy fur with trembling fingers and looked at Bucky with a delighted smile.

“Hey, Buck, welcome back.”

  
  


At first, Bucky kept his distance. He didn’t precisely avoid you, but there was a certain hesitance in the way he smiled or spoke to you. You didn’t mind, rejoicing in the simple fact that he was speaking to you _at all_. Steve didn’t pressure you two either (which was very suspicious), and just made sure you were comfortable. Within a week you were confident enough to start making the boys breakfast and clean up the apartment. 

Unfortunately, what you had gone through had left its mark. You’d awaken at night disoriented and terrified that Hydra had somehow controlled you. The panic wouldn't go away until you slipped into the boys’ bedroom and saw them peacefully cuddled together (it was as adorable as it sounds). Then, there were the panic attacks. It was Sam that managed to point out the triggers, during one of your sessions - you’d have a breakdown whenever you were faced with conflict. Fearing the dissociative state you had experienced during combat and following Hydra’s capture, you avoided any stressful situations, which included asking for things, disagreeing and, obviously, discussing what had happened during dinner.

Following Dr. Banner’s advice you started deprogramming slowly, your vulnerable psychological state made it difficult, but according to the doctor and Wanda, your attachment to the men and emotional connections to the other people meant that it had been wearing off all by itself. Things were… looking good.

It was the second week of your stay that Captain America was called in. He managed to ensure that Bucky remained, but his departure was still a shock to you.

You hovered as Steve finished packing, trying to look unaffected and failing miserably. Bucky had a knowing half-smile on his face the whole time you floundered. 

“You sure you’re going to be okay?” Steve asked for the tenth time, giving Bucky a meaningful look. “If it’s too much, I can ask Tony...”

“No!” Dropping the shirt you were folding, you waved your hands in surrender. “I’m fine, I swear. And Bucky is staying with me. It’s no bother, Steve, I swear.”

He pinned you with a gentle look that warmed the darkest parts of your soul, and sighed. “Very well, if you’re sure. I better get going then.” Throwing the bag over his shoulder, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and moved to Bucky to have a proper good-bye kiss. 

Feeling slightly voyeuristic, you left the room to cuddle with Major. The boys exchanged a few words and a couple more heated kisses, before Stev’s phone buzzed.

“All right, all right. Now I really have to go. You two behave!”

“Stay safe!” Bucky murmured and with a kiss let his boyfriend go, leaving the two of you alone.

  
  


The first 24 hours you handled yourself pretty well. The house was sparkling clean and there was a lot more food than necessary (stress baking, it’s a thing), but you had not bothered Bucky unnecessarily. During the night you tossed and turned on the coach, avoiding the nightmares by watching TV and playing video games. So you did well (not so much at Mario as at staying awake). At the same time, however, you could feel your panic levels rising. Tired and worried was not a good combination, which meant that the next day you were cranky. Major learned that fast, when he purposely flipped his bowl of wet food on the freshly mopped floor. 

The lecture you gave to the cat lasted approximately fifteen minutes. 

Once the house had been cleaned _again_ , you sat down to read the news. 

Bucky returned from the gym after noon, took in the pristine condition of the apartment, your tense shoulders, and sighed.

“Tea or coffee?” 

Startled, you closed the laptop. “Umm… what?”

“Tea or coffee? Come on. It’s not a difficult question, now is it?”

Smiling slightly you shrugged. The whole time you had known the boys you had never drank coffee and Steve hadn’t bothered to ask before - he’d just make you tea. 

“Doesn’t matter I guess, I’ll have whatever you’re having, Buck.” The grey-blue eyes did not leave yours, however, not until you caved in. “Oh, all right. I’ll have coffee for a change.”

Smiling, Bucky nodded and made you a cup, asking about sugar and cream along the way. You didn’t realize it at that time, but just the simple task of asking for coffee the way you preferred it eased your anxiety for a bit. 

“So...” You drawled awkwardly, sipping at the beverage. “Did anything interesting happen at the gym?” There hadn’t been many opportunities for you to talk to Bucky alone before, and you figured now was as good a time as any to break the ice or get yourself kicked out.

He took it in stride, leaning back in his chair and watching you with a lazy smirk. “Barton said he might come over to catch a movie on Thursday and Stark asked after you.”

“Oh?” That actually did surprise you. “I thought both of them were going with Steve?” They usually did.

“Not this once,” Bucky shook his head, and tipped the chair back, making your skin itch with the need to chide him. “Stevie has gone to Siberia with Romanoff.”

“That’s… unusual.” You mused. Steve was more of a smash and dash kinda guy, while Nat preferred shadows and intel gathering. They rarely worked as a pair.

“Yes, it is.” His face twisted as if he had tasted something sour. “I have a feeling Steve bailed on us so we could... talk.”

Straightening in the chair, you avoided the intensity of his gaze by staring at the almost empty cup. You did not wish to broach this subject, though you had a feeling that the super soldier was not going to give you much of a choice. The man was equally as stubborn as his partner, so this was it. Sink or swim.

“Do you want me to leave?” You asked idly, proud of how calm it sounded.

Sighing, Bucky pushed the hair out of his face. “Do you want to leave?”

You thought for all five seconds. “No.”

“Good. Then you’re staying.” His lips pressed in a thin line and the smirk dissolved. 

You watched him prepare the words, steeling yourself for a very painful conversation.

When he spoke, his voice was lower and more grave than usual. “After the Uprising, the fight with Steve, when I started disobeying the programming, it didn’t go well. Hydra had seriously messed with my head and I was too fucked up to understand it.” His metal fingers clenched in anger. “So I did what I knew best. It wasn’t a coincidence that you found me the way you did, doll.” 

“Half-naked, wounded and ready to wreak havoc?” Both of you shared a smile at the memory.

“Yeah, that. I was well on my way to die fighting.”

“But something had changed, hadn’t it? You did return, after all.” Your fingertips traced the grooves on the table. 

“I did. ” Glancing up at Bucky you were surprised to find his eyes warm, despite the gravity of the topic. “Because you gave me a choice.”

Glancing at the cup of coffee you frowned. Choice. “But that was all that I did?”

“Maybe,” Bucky agreed with a shrug, eyes on your fingers. “After Hydra, it was what I needed.”

“Oh.” You didn’t want to push, but you did wish to know why.

Thankfully, Bucky sensed that. “It’s not the brainwashing that sucks the most, it’s the after.” He watched you with intensity and sorrow. You got the feeling that Bucky hadn’t really spoken to anyone about this before. No matter how kind and understanding Steve was, he couldn’t relate. Not like you could. “It’s the nights you wake up uncertain that you haven't relapsed, the thoughts and impulses, the nightmarish memories, the _doubt_ that you can still be your own person. It doesn’t get easier for a very long time. Death and obedience, that’s what Hydra had instilled in the Winter Soldier.” His words had an unspoken question. You nodded. Yes, you knew exactly what Bucky was speaking of. “So when someone gives you a chance to choose? It makes all the difference in the world. I know these past few weeks had been hell for you,” The words were heavy with shame and anger. “And nothing can undo the damage those fuckers had inflicted. But you _will_ get better.” 

You gaped at the man in front of you with a stupefied expression. “Aren’t you angry with me?”

“What?” It was Bucky’s turn to lift up the eyebrows - you could see the gears turning in his head, trying to figure out the reason behind your question. “Why the hell would I be?”

“Well, you didn’t visit, didn’t so much as call for weeks, Buck. And after what had happened? What was I to think?”

Dragging a hand across his face, Bucky groaned. 

“I’m starting to see why Steve had called me a bullheaded moron.” He stood up, too worked up to stay still. “Bucky, hey, I don’t blame you, I know that what I did was unredeemable. I get it if you don’t want me near.”

“I wasn’t- I’m not angry at you.” He growled out, and the laughter that followed was harsh. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. You and Stevie, I swear.” Turning around, he pinned you with the most intense look you had seen him direct at you. “I didn’t visit because I thought _you_ wouldn’t want to see me. The Winter Soldier had been your last mission, like Steve was mine. So I kept my distance, and throughout the entire time I felt like shit, because I should have seen the signs sooner.”

“What signs?” He had noticed? 

When he spoke, listing all the reasons that had made him suspicious, you just sat there stupefied. Your flimsy backstory, distance from friends and family that you claimed to have, the way you fought, thought, the tracker showing you in central Europe, while you were supposed to be in Brazil...

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You groaned, rubbing a hand across your tired face. 

“I… don’t know. I guess I wasn’t sure.”

“Bucky,” You fixed him with a deadpan look, fighting down hysterical laughter. “You’re the biggest fool I’ve ever had the honour to meet.”

“I know.” The smile was a little sad.

“So we’re… we’re okay?”

“Yeah,” He murmured your name with fondness. “We’re okay.”

Nodding you swallowed down emotions and motioned at him in a nonchalant fashion. “Any chance I get a hug?”

“Only if it’s as awkward as this conversation was.”

“God, you’re such a dick, Bucky.” You laughed, pulling him into a hesitant embrace. 

  
  


Talking it out with Bucky had lifted a massive burden off of your shoulders, but the ghosts of Hydra’s manipulations did not heal overnight. In the days that followed, you maintained your clean-cook-TV routine. Thursday came and the evening you spent with Clint, Sam and Bucky was a blast. However, the excitement of having guests over and all those sleepless nights had you crashing on the coach as soon as you were horizontal. You didn’t hear Bucky tuck you in or snort at your sleeping face, before walking to his own bed.

Your dreams were not peaceful, sadly. They weren’t linear or easily defined, but within a few hours you jumped up, coated in a sheen of cold sweat. The ticking of the clock was deafening, for some reason reminding you of a bomb about to go off (ridiculous? you? nah ). You tried the breathing exercises Sam had taught you, turned on the TV, but nothing eased the dread. You _had_ to check on Bucky and Steve. Groaning at how ridiculous you were being, you tossed and turned for another hour, cuddled with Major (that was rare - the cat preferred the heat super-soldiers radiated), until the panic had you moving against rational thought. 

This wasn’t the first time you’d done the check up. If the boys had noticed, which you suspected, they hadn’t mentioned it to you yet. Silently opening the bedroom door, you slipped in. Bucky’s and Steve’s bedroom was dark, darker than the living room - Bucky liked to sleep in and had pulled down the heavy curtains - so you stumbled a bit before reaching the bed. 

Steve was missing, which had you panicking until you remembered that he was working, and Bucky was asleep on his side of the bed, left arm placed across the bed as if in memory of Steve. You tried not to dwell on the fact that he had chosen the side of bed closest to the door - there was no doubt in your mind that it had been intentional, to ensure that any unwanted guests would have to go through him, before reaching Steve. The sheets were tangled much like yours were, and you could see a knife sheath peeking from underneath one of the pillows. Which you would have found strange, had there not been a weapon tucked underneath _your_ coach (and let’s be honest, while cleaning the apartment you had unearthed a truckload of weaponry scattered around the place - the bed was not the weirdest place). Bucky’s face set in a frown and it was clear that he was locked in a nightmare of his own. You debated momentarily the pros and cons of waking up an angry and scared super soldier.

Had you been a sane person concerned with your own survival, you wouldn’t be friends with a better half of the Avengers.

“Buck, hey,” You brushed your hand against Bucky’s flesh shoulder tentatively, slightly surprised that he didn’t seem to notice - whenever you had been on a mission, he had awoken to the slightest sound. 

Seeing that he wasn’t stirring, you shook him gently, your voice growing in volume. He murmured something you couldn’t understand, the prosthetic limb clenching the material underneath. The two of you preferred to sleep with your prosthetics, too used to their presence to do otherwise. Bucky murmured something else, this time followed by ‘ _Steve’,_ and twitched as if in pain. Running a hand through your messy hair, you walked around the bed, took a seat on Steve’s side and took Bucky’s metal hand into your own. 

“James Buchanan Barnes, wake up,” It had been a long while since you’d used a voice with quite as much authority. 

But it worked.

Bucky _flew_ away from you, his eyes and hair wild. You could see him glance around in terror, his vision impaired by the darkness without the handy Stark-eye that you had. 

“Bucky,” Even the gentle murmur seemed to startle him. “It’s okay. You had a bad dream.”

He frowned, eyes searching for something around the room. 

“Where’s Steve?”

“He’s on a mission,” You motioned for him to get back to bed. “Should return on Saturday, remember?”

His movements were slow and confused, but he sat down beside you. Judging by the disoriented look he wasn’t fully awake yet, so you gently pushed his shoulders down. Once Bucky was settled, you draped a blanket over his form. His metal hand shot out to grasp yours, the grip hesitant. 

“Stay?”

When a man you care for so much looks this lost, you cannot be held accountable for your own actions.

Of course you stayed. 

  
  


You woke up warm. 

Your pillow smelled like Steve and there was a comfortable weight around your waist. You opened your eyes slowly to a dimly lit room and a beautiful man sleeping nearby. It was pretty surreal. Bucky looked relaxed and peaceful while he slept facing you. His metal hand was placed on your waist, but whether decency or simply Bucky’s touch-reluctant nature had kept the two of you at a proper distance throughout the night. The man looked ridiculously good with a scruff and messed up hair, while you felt rumpled and sleep-swollen. It wasn’t kind to think so, but you mentally grumbled that since you had been brainwashed and tortured, Hydra could have been kind enough to give you the serum as well. 

Mind still muddled by sleep, you took the time to enjoy the view. It really was beyond your control, when your hand moved to brush a dark strand from Bucky’s face, earning you an adorable nose scrunch. The Winter Soldier. Cute. Grinning slightly you repeated the motion, too entertained to see the broody assassin in such a vulnerable setting to consider the consequences. Bucky caught your hand, without opening his eyes and gave it a slight peck.

“It’s too early,” His hoarse voice sent a shiver down your spine. “Go back to sleep.”

Okay, you were entering dangerous territory here. Bucky was still too under to understand what was happening, and his sleepy demeanor was much more lethal than the cold prosthetic currently cradling your hand. Untangling your fingers, you pulled off the blanket and discreetly rolled over to the edge of their bed. Unfortunately, as soon as you turned your back to him, the man grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer. It had been a really long while since you had snuggled up to someone in bed - or had you? Which memories were yours, exactly, and which ones had been implanted? - and the sensation felt like dipping in a hot bubble bath after a long strenuous workout. Warm and safe you took a few seconds to soak it in. The peaceful moment didn’t last for long - you nearly knocked Bucky’s teeth out when he nuzzled your neck. 

You learned three things that morning:

One, Bucky - the scary Winter Soldier that moaned whenever anyone offered him a hug - was _clingy._ Extricating yourself from his grasp was a task few could accomplish without help.

Two, Steve was a _very very_ lucky bastard. Waking up to _that_ every morning? Ugh. 

Three, you could be as nimble as Natasha, when your best friend’s boyfriend endangered your common sense. Truly, the feats you performed were noteworthy. 

  
  


Friday came and went, you stumbling awkwardly around Bucky (much to his amusement - the bastard clearly had no idea how much of a heavy sleeper he was). It wasn’t like you’d never slept in the same place as him or Steve - some missions took long and sharing a room or tent had been unavoidable - but on the job neither of the boys was that difficult to rouse or that… cute. Gah. Things were getting weird. 

During the time you spent with him, however, you noticed something you hadn’t before - while Steve did his best to joke and chat, keeping you safe and happy, Bucky was mostly silent, not bothering to disturb the silence unless necessary. That, however, did not mean that he didn’t care. He was always alert, you realized, when he passed over your tea, placed a blanket over your shoulders or changed the channel without being prompted. When you did need to speak, he gave you a _look_ and waited patiently until you were ready. 

And at nights, when you slinked into his bedroom terrified and alone, he’d simply grumble ‘just come in already’, his hand finding yours as soon as you were under the covers. 

A part of you was horrified that Bucky was so kind to the woman that had tried to hurt him. You couldn’t explain why he gave you weapons, so you would feel safer, despite the danger this posed, why he peacefully slept in the same bed as you, shared his food and helped you with the physical therapy. 

Hell, he even let you braid his hair during a boring movie. 

You tried to ignore how deeply all of the above affected you.

  
  


“Blue or red?”

“Jesus, Buck, does it matter?”

He stared at you in silence for a couple of minutes. “Yes, yes. Choices. Fine, go with red.”

Nodding, he picked up the shirt and finally put it on. God damn the man for making you think, while he was standing in front of you shirtless.

  
  


Bucky picked you up from Sam’s at 6 PM, and drove to a pizza place. Had you been less fixed with your own thoughts, you wouldn’t have been startled to have your doors opened for you.

“Umm… Buck?” You glanced from the building to his face. “What are we doing here?”

“Getting food, come on. We don’t have all day and I’m hungry.”

Bucky led you to a table, directing your movement by keeping one hand on your elbow - you didn’t voice it, but the contact made you less anxious. The restaurant was a nice little one with relatively private booths and merely a couple of people. However, it just so happened to be the first public place you visited after the entire Hydra-mind-fuck - an unfamiliar building with strangers was just a tad too much - and you quickly walked up to the furthermost table. Bucky watched you get situated to face the entrances and other customers with sympathy. He had been in your position once.

“So, why here, Buck?” You were proud that the tremble you felt in your fingers did not transfer to your voice.

Shrugging out of his leather jacket, Bucky aimed a well practised smirk in your direction. “Figured now that we’re sleeping together, I should at least take you out to dinner.”

Clearing your throat you fixed him with a deadpan look, but the bastard just smirked. Shaking your head, you watched a cute waitress approach you with a reluctant smile. The way she checked out Buck was obvious, much to your amusement. Giving you your menus, and laughing at something Bucky had said, the girl swayed away. You might have followed her retreat with a meaningful smile. So sue you. When you turned back to Bucky, he looked amused. 

“Checking out the waitress on our first date, wow. That hurts my pride, doll.” He even had the nerve to place a hand on his chest in a dramatic fashion. 

Rolling your eyes, you flipped through the pages. “I was simply observing her. And this is not a date.”

“Sure you were,” He grinned.

“Bucky, what is this all about?” You gestured vaguely around the restaurant. 

His eyes today were bluer than usually. Or maybe it was just a trick of light. Whatever it was, his gaze pinned you to the chair. “You needed to get out. And no, therapy doesn’t count.”

Glancing at your hands you nodded. 

“It’s not easy, I know,” He continued to speak. “But it helps.” Shaking off the grave mood he motioned towards the menu. “Pick something.”

“I don’t suppose you want to order Hawaiian?”

Choking on words in offense Bucky growled. “You do that and I’m throwing you out faster than you can blame it on the programming.” 

It was terrible and Steve would be beating his boyfriend senseless, but the words made you laugh instead. 

“We should have thrown a pizza party - would have rooted all the evil in one sitting.”

Still laughing you met Bucky’s eyes, so very grateful. He nodded with a smile in response.

  
  


At 3 am you awoke from yet another nightmare - this time you were sleeping on the couch - to hear Bucky’s phone ring. It was Steve, calling to tell that he was not getting back for at least a few more days. Hearing the side of Bucky’s conversation, you concluded that Steve was being Steve and rushing headlong into danger, while not telling his friend much about it. By the time Bucky hung up, there were probably cracks on his new phone. You winced in sympathy and stood up to walk the short distance to the bedroom. 

Bucky sat on the bed, shoulders slumped and glaring angrily at the cracked screen (yep, you called it). He didn’t pay much attention to you leaning against the doorway, choosing to cuss at the mobile device in four different languages instead. Once he was finished, you cleared your throat. 

“What happened?”

“That punk is going to get himself killed, that’s what,” The man growled, hiding the worry behind fury. “Romanoff hasn’t checked in for a few days and he’s breaking cover to search for her.”

“I take it we don’t know where or what they’re doing?”

“No.”

You met Bucky’s eyes, and considered your options. “I might be able to call in a few favors and figure out where they’ve gone.”

He seemed to consider it for a while, but shook his head in the negative. “Not yet. Whatever’s going on, Steve doesn’t want me there. We’ll give him 48 hours.”

“All right,” You swayed, unsure of how to proceed. “Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to sleep. Good night, Buck.” A snort stopped you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Turning around you found Bucky already settling back to bed. “Neither of us is going to go back to sleep after this, so you might as well join me.” He patted the spot beside him with a smirk, but you could swear that the confident look seemed a bit shaky. 

Bucky was right, of course, and you could see that he was worried sick. Was it appropriate, however? 

“I can see you overthinking it, doll. Come on, I promise to behave,” You were already moving to Steve’s side of the bed before Bucky added. “Please.”

Settling above the covers and a proper distance away you sighed. The two of you stayed silent for a while, just soaking in the comfort of being in each other’s presence. Major joined you soon, plopping between the two of you and instantly dozing off. You laughed and watched Bucky pet the spoiled cat. Then he started speaking. You were never sure what had prompted it, but he told you stories about Steve, about his time in the army, and, unavoidably, about Hydra. There had been so much joy and pain in his life, too much to put into words, however, you had a feeling that he _had_ to try. You listened, asking questions here and there, squeezing his hand in comfort. Eventually, the words stopped and you turned to see Bucky soundly asleep, his face lax in relaxation. The clock showed 5:48 when you too dozed off, fingers intertwined with Bucky’s.

  
  


Monday evening Bucky got a call from Fury. 

“You sure?” His voice was colder than ice. “All right.” Hanging up, he turned to you. “Get dressed, we need to go to the tower.”

Startled, you placed the book down. “Me too?”

“Yeah. Fury didn’t say it over the phone, but this is most likely Steve-related, so he wants you there as well.”

The two of you got ready within minutes, and were dashing down the stairs to the parking lot. Bucky drove with no regard to the traffic laws, smirking whenever you cussed at him for nearly wrapping the car (and you) around the pole. Once you reached your destination, Bucky stopped you from getting out of the car with a gentle hand on your knee. 

“Fury can’t make you do anything you don’t want to, understand?” Well, that wasn’t ominous or anything. “Whatever happens, I’ve got your back.”

Nodding, you gave him a shaky smile and opened the door. 

  
  


“Absolutely fucking not,” Bucky hissed.

“Buck-”

“ _No._ ”

Frustrated you threw your hands up in the air, conscious that Stark was recording your entire conversation on his phone. “You keep telling me I need to make my own choices. This is me making a choice.”

“You’re not going against Hydra, you’re not ready,” The man could be intimidating when he wanted to, and he loomed a good foot taller than you. Unfortunately, you were not in the mood to be bullied.

“They have Steve and Nat, I have inside knowledge, I can help.”

“Then manage communications. Help with logistics. You’re not going out in the field.” He growled.

Taking in a deep breath, you tried to think. Bucky was clearly scared. Steve was in danger, and you were also trying to put yourself in harm’s way. A shouting match was not going to help. 

“James Buchanan Barnes,” You tried to keep the anger out of your voice. “Listen to me very closely. I am aware that I’m not exactly suitable for this job - I could be reactivated, captured or killed.” You met his eyes that looked more grey than blue today. “But think of what you would do in my position. I know the layout, the defenses - they’ve kept me in that facility for _years_ .” He ground his teeth. Your memories of the time spent at Hydra were fractured, but that facility… While you didn’t know its location, you knew what was inside. “And we both know that this is not a trap for _me_.”

“Going in ahead of everyone else, alone is suicide.”

“My friends are there, Buck,” You smiled sadly. “I don’t care.”

He examined you, seeing nothing but determination. Sam would be proud, you thought - your first heated conflict and you did not melt into a puddle of anxiety. But Steve and Nat were counting on you, and even Fury agreed that you should go in first. You were not stepping down. 

Finally, exhaling an emotionally loaded _‘fuck’_ , Bucky grabbed your shoulders and pulled you in for a bone crushing hug. 

“Stubborn, reckless and too good for the world,” He muttered into your ear, while you laughed. “I sure know how to pick them, huh?”

Someone pointedly cleared their throat behind you.

“Ugh, I’m sorry if I’m interrupting a heartfelt moment and everything, but Nat just checked in. They’re fine.” Barton had a shit eating grin as you and Bucky stared at him flabbergasted, hands still loosely around each other. 

“What?”

  
  


Nat and Steve returned within six hours, beaten and bruised to oblivion. The debrief and medical treatment took three more hours, which meant that aside for the Hello-hug, you didn’t see Steve until it was way past 6 am. You were pretending not to drool on Bucky’s shoulder by the time your favorite Captain walked into the hall where you’d been waiting.

You didn’t speak much for the entire trip home, trying not to bother him - Steve could barely stand on his feet, let alone handle all your nagging, so you kept reminding yourself that he was exhausted, but okay, nonetheless. He slept through the car ride, took a shower and crashed on the coach, leaving you with no other option than to sleep on his side of the bed (yes, Bucky teased you mercilessly, but both of you were too tired to actually care). 

Once the lights were off, you made a mental note to wake up earlier than the boys and make them pancakes.

  
  


Cool air brushed against your back, before something warm and solid settled behind you, dipping the bed. Too asleep to care, you snuggled deeper, innocently murmuring nonsense. A low laugh rumbled from behind you and you felt a warm arm wrapping around your middle. Whoever had been rude enough to disturb your sleep gave a soft kiss to the top of your head and joined you in dreamland. 

  
  


You were _melting._

That was the first thing you noticed upon waking up - the heat. Similarly to a hot summer day, your hair was stuck to the nape of your neck and your body was feverishly hot. While you tried to kick the blanket away from you, a dissatisfied meow signalled that you were not alone. That was also when you noticed the unmistakable presence of two other bodies beside you. 

Opening your eyes to realize that you had been sandwiched between two super soldiers was… startling.

Bucky was sprawled on his back, the blanket twisted around his legs. Your head rested on his right shoulder, while the left one was draped across his stomach, gently holding golden fingers. That would be Steve’s right hand, coincidentally draped across your waist. The blond was pressed against your back, probably getting a facefull of messy hair, and when you tried to move your legs (more precisely, the blanket), you found that his right leg was doing a decent impersonation of a snake and curling around yours. 

Exhaling you lifted your head to look at the time. 6 pm. Well, your sleep schedule was fucked. 

Trying not to make a big deal of the entire situation, you wiggled underneath Steve’s hold.

Neither of the boys had so much as twitched. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Bucky grumbled your name sleepily, his right arm curling around you and halting the pathetic attempts at escape. 

“I’m trying to get out of this human knot,” You hissed as silently as you could, hoping not to wake Steve. “It’s late and I’m going to die of heatstroke here, let me go.”

“No.”

“Bucky!”

“Sorry, doll, my bed, my rules.” The prick still hadn’t opened his eyes, but there was a lazy smirk on his face. He had no right to look that good.

“Technically, this is my bed,” Steve spoke from behind you, and you could hear a smile in his voice. “You moved in, remember?”

“Details.”

“Guys,” It might have come out as a whine. “Let me go.”

“Hmm,” You could feel Steve’s breath against your neck, while Bucky’s fingers lazily traced the sliver of skin your shirt had exposed during the struggle. “What’s in it for us?”

Your mind was entering dangerous waters and the slightly suggestive tilt to Steve’s voice was not helping. You were a living woman, after all. Resisting one of these men would have been a feat. Not thinking naughty thoughts when you were pressed between both of them? Beyond mortal capabilities. As if that wasn’t enough, you loved these idiots, and…

You froze, eyes growing wide at the revelation. 

Oh.

Oh no. 

You _loved_ these idiots.

  
  


Romantic troubles aside, your relationship with them returned to normal. Except that you were living together. And sharing the bed at times. 

Yeah, so maybe things were getting more and more complicated by the minute.

“Guys, I think I need to… go back to my place, I’ve imposed long enough,” You murmured during breakfast, staring decisively at your plate. Which was why you missed the look the two super soldiers shared.

“Are you sure?” Steve murmured your name gently. “Cause we don’t want you to leave.”

Neither did you, but you were on the verge of sanity and needed your own space to… clear your mind. You could take only so many cold showers.

“And I am grateful, for everything,” You gave both of them a quick smile. “But with Sam and Bruce helping me, I feel confident enough to try living on my own again.”

“One condition, non-negotiable,” Bucky looked somewhat scary when he said that. “You call every week and the movie night attendance is obligatory.”

“Deal,” You laughed, and turned to pet Major, who was trying to steal food from Steve’s plate. “And the two of you will always be welcome in my home, as long as you bring snacks for Major.” 

“Deal.”

  
  


Gradually you got your feet back on the ground. Bruce and Sam were instrumental - the psychological and emotional damage that Hydra had wreaked upon you was considerable, and that’s without the programming. There were good days and bad days, nights filled with terror and instances of overwhelming anxiety. However, not being alone helped. 

You restarted your training with Nat, called your friends from SHIELD, started jogging. 

You also figured out what had happened to you. 

Turned out that Steve’s and Nat’s mission had been arranged to root out the Hydra sector that had killed your family and taken you captive. They had been successful - the facility was shut down and their data downloaded for further analysis. Your family had died during one of Hydra’s smaller terrorist attacks - the explosion meant to scare the public and lower some politician's ratings had brought the building on a restaurant where you were celebrating your mom’s birthday. A couple of children going missing in the wake of two dozen dead did not raise questions. Having survived the blast, you had been taken away by Hydra. 

The rest was easy to puzzle out. 

“This is certainly macabre,” You noted, standing in front of a gravestone that had your name engraved in the stone.

“You get used to it,” Bucky shrugged, giving you a pensive look. 

Steve hugged you from behind, his voice gentle. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. It’s just… weird. Not sure how this is supposed to give me closure, either.”

“You’ll figure it out eventually,” Bucky assured you. 

And you did. It was days later, but you did. The girl, whose name was on the headstone, had been kidnapped and tortured and twisted. She was dead. Meanwhile you, the woman that had broken away from Hydra and built a life for herself, was still here. 

And perhaps that’s all that mattered in the end.

  
  


“Nat! Clint’s dancing on the tables again!” Your words were difficult to understand through laughter, but the situation was absolutely priceless. 

Natasha groaned, turning to the inebriated man and fixing him with murderous glare. 

“Man, if looks could kill,” Sam whistled, properly buzzed himself. 

Tony had thrown a reasonably impressive party to celebrate his engagement to Pepper, and, seeing as most of the guests were either Avengers or weirdos like you that had befriended them, a simple get together had quickly devolved into chaos. Pepper was sitting with Jane, Darcy, and a few other women you hadn’t gotten the chance to get to know too well, while you were stuck with Nat (upon her insistence), Clint and Sam. Bucky and Steve had been called out a day before, so you were simply enjoying the night out with friends. Tony sat with Thor, his phone poised to film Clint’s performance. 

You watched the redhead maintain the stare for a short period of time, before slowing making her way to Clint. All she did was hip bump the table the archer was perched on, and suddenly Clint was flying. 

“The gravity still works!” You heard him exclaim, much to Nat’s amusement.

Tossing back your drink you turned to Sam and offered him both of your hands. “Wanna dance?”

You weren’t drunk enough to miss him looking at something behind you. “Sorry, girl, had already promised a dance to… ugh… Kate.” 

“The bartender?”

“Yep, sorry!”

He dashed away from the table fast enough to kick up dust. You just sighed. 

“Did you really have to scare him away, Steve?” You turned around, not surprised to see the man loom behind you. 

“You’re not even happy to see me?” He pouted, one hand braced on your chair. 

“I am. I take it you finished early?”

“Yep. Bucky’s still getting cleaned up, so I figured I could use this chance to steal a dance.”

You crossed your hands and pretended to think. “I don’t know, Mr. Rogers, I don’t like bullies.”

The chair you were sitting on suddenly did a 180 degree turn. “What if I ask nicely?”

Holy hell, who had taught Steve to look at you like that?

“Well,” You took in a calming breath. “I suppose if you insist.”

“I do.” His voice was low, sending heat all the way to your toes. 

He reached out a hand, and pulled you up, never breaking eye contact. It wasn’t the first time you caught the look, but his relationship with Bucky was a clear indication that no matter the tension, you had to respect and treat him as a friend. Brushing the flirty heat you stepped closer, assuming that he was going to do the simple sway-dance as before, but boy were you wrong. Steve spun and dipped you to the rhythm, blue eyes bright with happiness. Laughing and twirling you didn’t even notice Bucky stop at the entrance, grinning when he saw the two of you. It was only when the song ended, and Steve all but threw you backwards, eliciting a shriek of delight, that you noticed Bucky, whom you barralled into. 

“Mind if I join?” Bucky grinned, his hand stabilizing you by the elbow. You saw his eyes taking you in from head to toe, and threw the hair back over your shoulder. 

“Can you keep up with your boyfriend, Buck?” You didn’t mean your voice to be quite as low.

Twirling you, he chuckled. “Who do you think taught this punk all the moves, sweetheart?” It wasn’t fair that you felt the caress all the way to your bones.

The rest of the evening flew by in a blur. Bucky and Steve were a formidable team, and the Asgardian mead (Thor’s gift to Tony) had lowered their inhibitions enough to act a little bit silly. Being traded between the super soldiers, outdrinking Tony, complimenting Nat’s butt _again_ (she was a world-class assassin - notice the two ‘ass’ in the word? of course her backside was amazing), joining relative strangers for a karaoke duet and finally taking Bucky’s glass by accident and drinking Asgardian mead was all you could remember. Things got fuzzy after the mead. 

And if there were videos on youtube that had over a million likes, as long as you didn’t see them, it didn’t hurt your pride.

  
  


You didn’t think much of it, when everyone but the super soldiers couldn’t attend the movie night.

It wasn’t exactly strange that Steve was fidgety throughout the entire movie, or that Bucky kept brushing his fingers casually over your skin.

Only when the movie ended and the two of them didn’t so much as _move_ that you decided to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

“All right, guys, what is it that we’re avoiding? Spill it.”

Steve had the decency to look sheepish, while Bucky simply smirked. You watched them share a foreboding look.

“Uh-oh,” you murmured, “How bad is it?”

Steve sighed. “It’s not bad. It’s...” Looking at Bucky for help and not getting any, he sighed again. “We don’t want to insult you.”

“Ah...a….” What were you supposed to say to that?

“What Stevie is trying to say here,” Bucky took over after a painfully long awkward silence. “Is that we respect you and like having you as a friend, but we would _also_ love to do unspeakable things to you.” 

“Buck!” Steve exclaimed, clearly disapproving his boyfriend’s choice of words. 

You just… you kinda sat there and stared at the paused TV. 

The words themselves could be interpreted a hundred different ways, but the emotion on Bucky’s face was unmistakable. You stayed silent, waiting for your brain to reboot. Once it did, you opened your mouth without thinking. 

“Did you just offer me a threesome or am I hearing things?” Your voice had no inflection and you kept your face neutral. 

Steve took it as a bad sign. “That’s not what he means. What we’re… uh… offering is a relationship. With us. Not… Not just the physical intimacy.”

“But mostly that,” Bucky smirked. Either he could read you better than Steve, or he was a lot more confident than you thought.

Nodding, you tangled both of your hands in your hair and pulled. 

Steve called your name, hand tentatively reaching out to tug your hand away. “It’s fine if you don’t want to, nothing has to change.”

You stared at those blue eyes for a while, before turning to Bucky.

“And you’re okay with this?”

It was no secret that you loved Steve and had been gently rejected. You had promised Bucky not to try and get between them. Falling in love with Bucky as well was not going to change that.

“Doll,” His voice did that gravely thing that made you curl your toes. “I suggested it.”

Unconsciously you licked your lips at the declaration. It didn’t escape your notice that Bucky swallowed thickly at the sight. 

“When, _exactly_ did this conversation happen?”

“Before Tony’s engagement party,” Steve answered, looking sheepish.

Well, that explained things. 

“And both of you are fine with… uh… an additional partner?”

“Yes.” They answered in usion. 

“This won’t be simple.” You warned. Why were you trying to talk them out of it? Oh, right. Because this was scary.

“Things are rarely simple, especially when it comes to us,” Steve noted, his thumb drawing distracting circles on your knee. 

“People are going to talk.”

“Sweetheart, we were together during the Depression. I think we can handle that.”

You smiled in return. “And if this doesn’t work out?”

“Then we’re going to be adults and go back to being friends.”

“All right.” Silence. “I would also like to do unspeakable things to you two.” 

  
  
  


“Buck!” You shouted in warning and aimed at the man behind him.

The moment he ducked, maintaining a steady fire to cover Steve’s advance, you shot the goon through the eye. Steve’s shield flew right in front of you, embedding into the nearby wall as if it was made of butter. You jumped startled, and turned to see him overwhelmed by the enemy. Tugging the shield out of the concrete, you dashed forward. 

“Steve! Catch!” It wasn’t as precise or powerful as Steve’s usual throws, but it got the job done.

“Thanks, doll.” Captain America exclaimed enthusiastically and began bashing the frisbee of American Hopes and Dreams into Hydra agents’ heads. Bucky meanwhile, grabbed you by the scruff and dragged you behind him. 

You didn’t stay there long, noticing the opportunity to slip past Hydra’s defences.

The truck was loaded with chemicals you had no doubt were meant to kill or incapacitate Hydra enemies. Picking up a container, you set to work. 

Someone called your name, just as you were finishing up. 

“Here! Get ready to make a run for it!”

Bucky nodded and turned to Steve, who was a short distance away. Once most of the bad guys had been taken care of, you grabbed your boys and signalled the Quinjet to get ready for takeoff. 

It wasn’t until you were a good hundred feet away that you turned around and placed the detonator into Bucky’s hand. 

He glanced at you, at the truck and grinned. The vehicle went up in flames shortly after and you watched Hydra scatter, now that their objective had been destroyed. Not for long, though. Bucky pulled you by the belt buckles and kissed you in a very indecent way. 

Swaying slightly you pulled away and ran inside the Quijet. Steve followed soon after, laughing. He dropped his shield in front of you, grinned and pulled you into yet another heated kiss. This was followed by Bucky tugging his boyfriend away and taking over, once your vision started turning black at the edges. 

“See,” Bucky winked, taking in a properly dishevelled Steve. “We work together just fine.”


End file.
